


Mantis, Shadow, Wolf

by insomnikat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Haruno Sakura, BAMF Uchiha Itachi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fate & Destiny, First Love, Friendship/Love, Good Uchiha Itachi, Grief/Mourning, Haruno Sakura-centric, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, Love, One-Sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Protective Haruno Sakura, Protective Uchiha Itachi, Regret, Soulmates, Tragic Romance, Uchiha Itachi Lives, Uchiha Sasuke will not be deserving of pity, doesn't massacre his family, in which Sakura is the orphan, in which there will be, lives a little longer because of it, not even a little bit, so SO much unresolved Itachi feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomnikat/pseuds/insomnikat
Summary: In another world and another life where Sakura meets Itachi first, what kind of person would she become?A venture into a soulmate AU where Sakura is the orphan, Itachi lives (a little longer, anyway), and Kakashi... is still Kakashi. But not.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Itachi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 66
Kudos: 192
Collections: Quote Prompt Memes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [quoteonlyprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/quoteonlyprompts) collection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Shadow' is the literal translation of Kage and I'm going to use it a lot in this story.
> 
> Shout out to Missambermarie who first prompted a soulmark AU. This will not be quite soulmark, but part of the higher soulmate trope.

The man in her dreams stands alone in a field, his back to her, gazing up at a circling murder of crows. He wears a long robe and a wide straw hat that masks his features, but she knows— had always felt that it's _him._ The one whose fate is bound to hers.

She's dreamt of him for as long as she can remember, but she has nothing to identify him. It is always night in her dreams and she can't even say if the robe is dark but illuminated by the stars, or light but shaded by the darkness.

The field he stands in also changes from dream to dream. Lush and green, at first. Barren, the next. Blanketed in darkness under a blood red moon; she's seen it flooded with rain, scorched by fire, ashen and deserted. She's seen him stand stock still in a squall, the wind clawing angrily at his cloak as he held one hand firmly over the hat on his head. But then the storms would pass, and the grass and the crows always returned.

Sometimes the crows fly close and around him, as if protecting him. Other times, they circle slow and high overhead, as if waiting for death. His head is almost always tilted towards the night sky and she wonders what he sees and what he's looking for.

One night, as the crows circle slowly overhead in her dreams, she swears he turns his head back just enough for her to glimpse a single, red eye.

A month later, Uchiha Itachi was dead.

**———**

The title of Shadow comes with as much expectations as it does duties. Greeting wealthy merchants and aristocrats as they flow through the open palace doors, for example, is something he found diplomatically essential but personally taxing and distasteful. One such guest and his escort bow before him and Itachi acknowledges them with the barest of nods.

He scans the growing crowd with quiet disdain and, not for the first time that evening, amuses himself with the dark thought of bleeding his eyes a different shade of red to show them all what true pain and horror feels like beyond their shield of privileged wealth.

All it would take is a second... a second his Tsukuyomi could stretch into weeks. On such a scale, however, the genjutsu would demand an unforgiving toll on his already weakened body.

_It could be worth it_ , he thinks, before a wave of nausea crashes behind his eyes. Itachi forces them closed and pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand. He draws in a sharp breath and tries to steady himself as the worst of it rocks his sense of balance. His body lurches backwards before he can reign it in and...

His back is met with a steady palm and fingers curl gently around his upper arm for support. "Uchiha-sama," a softly feminine voice breathes into his ear. "Let's go."

Itachi's body relaxes with familiarity. He sighs, resigned, and turns into her waiting arms. There's an apology waiting in the look that meets her gaze. "Agreed."

**———**

Sakura knows the signs. When Itachi closed his eyes and raised a hand to his face, she was already moving into position behind him.

She's thankful that long, flowing robes are the current court fashion. The generous layers of fabric help hide the fact that she's practically holding up the most celebrated living member of the Uchiha family and not just latching onto him like one of the dozen painted escorts that have come through their doors this afternoon.

Itachi allows her to steer him steadily to his bedchambers. Even as she feels his strength and balance return, he continues to hold her close. He bows his head to her masked face as if in confidence, and she tries not to roll her eyes at the whispers and the stares. _It's her! Look! T_ _he Shadow's kunoichi_.

She pushes the doors to the master bedchamber open just enough for both of them to slip through and locks it immediately. She knows exactly what it looks like. They will not be disturbed.

The bedroom is as grand and regal as is expected for a young man of Itachi's standing, but the truth is he tolerates more than demands the decorum. _Sometimes it's useful to fit the image people project on you,_ he once said.

Sakura sits him down on the edge of the luxurious bedding and helps him remove all the stiff and official pieces of clothing. Itachi sinks into the sheets, looking exhausted, as she carefully folds the exquisite garments and sets them aside.

"Sasuke will preside over the celebrations tonight."

She tugs at the ornate jewelry on her head, detaching a head piece that had been concealing the top half of her face, and shakes loose long, mahogany-dyed hair that spills down her back and shoulders. Her reaction is dry and disinterested. "He'd enjoy that."

Itachi stares at her through narrow slits under thick lashes and the red recedes from shadow-dark eyes. His breathing is shallow but regular. "You must accompany him."

She chuckles. "Your brother will not have trouble finding an escort." She rubs her hands together for a few seconds before leaning over him and placing two fingers on either side of his temple. "Ready?"

He inclines his head a fraction in consideration before closing his eyes. "Proceed."

Cool chakra spill like honey over inflamed nerves and tendons behind his eyelids. A full minute passes silently before a soft, off-key humming reaches Itachi's ears.

His lips curl slightly with amusement. It always happens when Sakura falls deep into concentration, and he's come find the small, unconscious quirk oddly endearing. "What happened to cutting back on your sharingan use?" she admonishes.

"When possible," he reminds her. There was no way he could allow guests into his home without scanning each one.

Sakura tsks and sighs as she pulls her hands away from his temple and places them on his chest. The chakra she pushes this time into his body is warm but equally soothing, and a few more minutes pass filled with her irregular tune.

Long, elegant fingers wrap themselves around both her wrists and squeeze gently. "Enough." Her gaze rise to his in question but Itachi's are still closed, his expression peaceful but thoughtful. "Sakura, you need to be seen tonight."

He guides her fingers over the necklace lying loosely around his neck. She'd always been enchanted by the accessory— so delicate, so plain and unassuming for such a renowned shinobi. "He will recognize you if you wear this," he says quietly.

" _Everyone_ will recognize me," she scoffs, a bit too loudly, in disbelief. Blood rushed to her cheeks and to her ears as she looked away. " _Everyone_ will think I… that you've…"

"Proposed," he says clearly and with a small smile. Then, in a more hushed voice, "does it disgust you?"

"No," she whispers with equal secrecy and returns the smile. Eyes brighten with delight for a brief moment before worry sets into her brow. "Who?"

"Someone you can trust," he replies cryptically. Itachi unclasps the necklace with his free hand, places it in her palm, and covers it with his own. "I apologize for asking this of you."

Her heart pounds hard against her chest. She swallows. "But how will I know _him_? What do I do?" Itachi only ever dealt with sensitive matters in secret. It was one of the reasons he'd first approached her about this 'arrangement' two years ago. And though she'd always jumped at the possibility of helping him ever since, she knows he'd been very careful not to mix her up in anything until now for a reason. To involve her at last implied something of grave urgency and consequence.

His hands squeeze hers again in reassurance. "You need not do anything. Simply your presence there will suffice."

Her shoulder relax a little with relief and she nods in understanding. Sakura pulls her hand and the necklace slowly from his and plants a chaste kiss onto his cheek.

"Anything," she reminds him. "And always."

It was their promise.

Itachi beckons her closer and whispers some more into her ear. "There will be others; spies and those who wish me harm."

She turns her head to stare at him, eyes now wide with alarm. This. _This_ was exactly the element of danger she was anticipating (dreading, secretly thrilled about). She opens her mouth to question him just as he leans forward to kiss her.

Small and tender. A stolen gesture that makes Sakura's heart leap into her throat with unexpected joy. With so many duties and obligations constantly separating them, and so many eyes in the palace watching and waiting for a glimpse of the rumors to be true, private moments together like this had become increasingly rare.

Pleased with her reaction, Itachi cups her face with both hands and kisses her again, softer and longer. After all, he indulged so little in these moments that have become so precious and so few. "Be wary," he breathes as their lips part. "The two are not the same."

Their eyes lock for a long, meaningful moment. To anyone in the palace sneaking a peek, it would look like Uchiha Itachi, the young man becoming famously known as 'the other Hokage', had just given her the most heartfelt of confessions.

And in the way that the best lies are those closest to the truth, he had.

Sakura lowers her gaze and bites her lip. She looks at the necklace in her hand and the lingering taste of him sends tingles up her spine. Something she'd thought of mentioning later now seemed very relevant to the moment. "I had the dream again. Last night."

He nods softly in acknowledgement. "Your soulmate."

She shifts nervously before lifting a hopeful smile back up to him. "His eyes were red."

Dark brows rose with quiet interest. Itachi had memorized every detail of her dreams and cataloged them in the order Sakura confided to him. There could only be one logical projection. "You think he's Uchiha."

A statement. Not a question.

Sakura's disappointment is clear when her gaze drops downward again. Sometimes it's cruel how sincerely clueless he appears to her feelings. "I think it's you," she says. "It _must_ be you."

His gaze softens as he places a chaste kiss on her brow. "I don't need to be your soulmate to feel bound and drawn to you."

Frustration brims her eyes, blurring her vision as fingers curl on a fistful of her own robe. "So you don't believe. Even after you've just practically—" _proposed._ Too upset to continue, Sakura turns to sit away from him.

The necklace slides discarded beside his lap. Itachi picks it up and runs each ring carefully between his fingers. "It's true," he admits pensively, "I can't believe."

He moves to sit behind her and gingerly, so as not to alarm her, lifts her dark hair away to expose her neck. He traces the curve of her shoulder lovingly as she wipes at the moisture brimming in her eyes. "I can't believe Fate would be so cruel to you."

Sakura shudders. Slender hands wrap around her from behind to rest the necklace along her collarbone. She holds it in place just over her heart as he secures the clasp at the nape of her neck.

"I wouldn't find it cruel," she murmurs. It would be better to love briefly than to not have loved at all. The romantic in her believed all the great love stories claiming a few precious days could span a lifetime of feeling. With Itachi's Tsukuyomi, it could literally be possible.

Steady hands on her shoulders urge her to turn back around. The small smile he offers is impossibly sad. "You would. You will."

He pulls her back onto the bed and folds his arms around her, holding her tight. There is still a few more hours before the celebration. Sakura rests her head on his shoulder and places a hand on his chest. She feels his lips touch her hair. His heart beats steady against her ear in a comforting rhythm and his fingers stroke her arm in leisurely companionship.

" _Always_ , Sakura," he vows. "And anything."

**———**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has chapter headers! Much ♥ to **[samirai](https://www.artstation.com/samirai)** at ArtStation.

Sakura scans the hall as she steps out of her room, the gossamer silk layer of her emerald gown drifting airily behind her. "Where's your date?" she asks the waiting prince, already dreading his response.

Sasuke holds his arm out to her and gives an earnest smile. "I thought I could be yours tonight."

Approval flickers briefly on his face at the sight of her unconcealed face, but sobers with recognition of the necklace she wears. He starts moving down the hall as soon as her hand touches his arm and doesn't look at her again. "Going for a statement, I see."

"For your brother."

"It always is," he drawls and a familiar icyness settles itself between them.

Inwardly, Sakura bristles. Sasuke always pushed buttons when he didn't get his way. And for the last two years, it seemed like everything she did displeased him.

She holds his arm with both hands as they're announced before a brightly lit dance hall as _Prince Sasuke and the Shadow's consort Sakura._

Murmurs of astonishment fill the air as all eyes fall on her. Her teeth grind as she tries not to stiffen or visibly waver under the intense scrutiny. She's been stared at all her life. She should be used to this. Sakura holds her head high and takes a deep breath. After all, _b_ _e seen_ was the only thing she needed to do this evening.

**———**

He saw her walk in with the young prince, saw the necklace around her neck, and understood instantly.

It would _only_ be her.

While most gazes fell onto the necklace she wore, Kakashi's fell onto her hair. It was neither onyx nor midnight black like most of the extended Uchiha family, but contained highlights of burgundy reminiscent of blood smeared with ash. It was… strange. Ominous. It made the exposed skin on the back of his neck prickle with alarm.

Most people knew that the kunoichi Sakura was not ( _yet_ ) an Uchiha. Lesser known was the fact that before she became the Shadow's consort, she was the Crown Prince Itachi's ward. He'd found her in an abandoned village on the final days of the last war, a newborn left behind on a future battlefield. Because he'd been barely more than a child himself, loyal servants to the crown were tasked with raising her. But Itachi always checked in on her, personally arranged her education and training, and as they grew older, kept her close by his side.

Sakura had been raised and groomed an Uchiha in every way but title. And soon, it seemed, even that would be corrected.

When her gaze slowly passes in his direction, Kakashi is struck by the most iridescent green eyes he's ever seen.

An intense vision of the same eyes drenched in matted, old blood, her whole body dripping with it as she extends her arm out to him in invitation to death and destruction, suddenly grips him. His heart rams hard against his chest as phantom screams of terror echo in his ears. Sweat appears on his brow. 

Furiously, he shakes the image from his head and drives both hands roughly through his hair.

_Focus._

This was not the time to superimpose dark, personal secrets onto a target.

But _the hair._

There was something not right about it and Kakashi couldn't figure out why it bothered him so much. He should be leaving to report, every moment spent lingering increasing the danger and risk of exposure. But he hadn't survived this long as a shinobi without occasionally listening to his gut feeling. And right now, it was telling him to take a closer look.

**———**

She stood confidently beside Sasuke and scanned the room while he delivered a compelling speech about Uchiha honor and might. It was a bit too wordy and strong for her liking, but it got the intended point across. As soon as he finished and the crowd started their applause, she let go of his arm and started down the side of the hall. "I'm going for a walk."

Again, something dark and disapproving flickers behind Sasuke's eyes. It disappears as he forces a grin and nods. "Happy hunting."

Sakura slips between the curtained-off balcony and the columns lining the dance hall. In this partially concealed space, it's easy for her to skim the edges of conversation without being noticed.

_That was The Shadow's necklace! I'm sure of it!_

_So what? The council would never approve._

_You forget The Shadow appointed new members..._

_I'll not abase myself to a pair of teenagers!_

_… her eyes? SO weird._

_She's a witch. That's why he keeps her close._

_Lame. She's not THAT pretty…_

_The dango is sooooo good! Let's get seconds!_

Sakura tries not to roll her eyes. People were so predictable. As she wanders from the gossip and the chatter, she pulls a generous fold of gossamer silk from her dress and over her head. The translucent fabric does nothing to mask her face, but the feel of having something between herself and the so-called higher class of society is comforting.

Her thoughts drift inevitably to Itachi and she wonders if he'd woken from his nap yet. What might he be reading to pass the time while he waited for her? The image of him reclined peacefully by the fireplace makes her heart smile.

"You look happy. That's good."

She whirls, flustered and amazed that she hadn't sensed anyone on the balcony earlier. Sakura glares as a man steps out from the shadows and into the light pouring from the hall. A shock of silver-white hair shimmers softly, like starlight, briefly covering his face as he bows in greeting. When he stands, she is surprised to see a face so masked only his right eye squinting up in a smile can be seen. "Forgive my intrusion."

Sakura eyes his military-like black uniform warily but can't place it with any of their known associates. A guard for hire, perhaps? The evening celebrations were for guests only and his sulking in the shadows in non-formal attire indicated he was definitely not on the invite-list.

Her thoughts must have shown because he raises both arms suddenly in a gesture of good faith. "Ah. I was… I was concerned for my client," he explains and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "I just came to see with my own eyes…" his voice trails at the sight of her nodding in understanding.

"And did you find her?"

The stranger blinks. "Him," he corrects. "And... yes. Thank you."

_Strange_ , Sakura thinks. She's usually spot on about this kind of thing. She blames the mistake on the fact that she only had his voice and one eye to read him from. "My apologies." She nods curtly and begins to walk away.

He follows.

She stops and turns to him again, a single brow raised curiously. "You should be leaving."

"Ah," he starts again, somewhat embarrassed, and shucks both hands into his pants pockets. "I was just wondering--"

"Yes?" Amusement is clear in her voice now.

The stranger lowers his gaze. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

Her eyes narrow and her lips purse into a thin line as she assesses him once more. It's clear in the way he moves that he's much younger than his silver-white hair initially led her to assume. His deceivingly relaxed and unassuming posture also hides at least three concealed weapons that she can make out. And if he hadn't known her identity earlier, he's surely figured it out by now. He was staring too hard at her hair instead of her eyes and glanced too frequently at the necklace.

He could be trouble if it was his intention. The logical thing for Sakura to do would be to just walk away or even raise the alarm for his clear violation of palace rules. But in that moment, every one of her senses told her she had nothing to fear from this stranger. His curiosity seemed sincere compared to the chatter still happening about her and she found his presence, so far, to be _refreshing_.

She taps a finger lightly to her lips and considers her response. "Sometimes I like to get a feel for the room. Find out what interests people." Sakura shrugs. "If I'm lucky, listen to a few hopes and dreams not related to me or a prince."

He studies her as she speaks and finds her soft, easy smile enchanting. "It's a beautiful thing," he observes, "to be young and full of hope."

His single dark eye seems to stare right through her. Sakura blushes and lowers her gaze.

He'd seen enough. "You have my congratulations," he says, bowing to signal his leave. "I wish only that you never lose it."

Sakura chuckles. "My youth? Or my hope?"

His eye looks sad for a moment before crinkling up in a smile. "The will to hope."

**———**

As he sprints through the forest in the early morning dawn, Kakashi can't shake the haunting vision of her covered in blood. That girl… that happy, hope-filled girl was no harbinger of death. He refused to believe it. But like any other Uchiha, she certainly had some deeply buried secrets.

Two shadowy figures appear and flank either side of him. "What's the message?"

Kakashi's fists clench determinedly. "The timeline is accelerated," he reports. "We must find the Sannin Tsunade immediately."


	3. Chapter 3

Sakura was five years old the first time she told someone she loved them.

"Idiot," he'd sneered as he folded his arms angrily. "What do you know about love?"

"I know it comes in many forms," she'd cried. "I know it's the feeling you have when you really care for someone's happiness..."

Sasuke laughed cruelly. "Well, I definitely don't _love_ you. You're a freak! Your real parents didn't even care enough to keep you."

Her little heart burst with pain. "But! But Itachi--"

"My brother _pities_ you. _Pity_ is not love."

Tears spilt from Sakura's eyes as she ran away holding a crumpled mess of hand-picked flowers to her chest. She'd been too hopeful, too naïve. She'd thought that if Itachi loved them both, surely it meant Sasuke was just as kind and wonderful and eager to be friends as she was. They were the same age! The three of them could've played together. She couldn't understand how it went so wrong.

Sakura was so embarrassed she didn't leave her room for days. When she awoke one morning to find a ten-year-old Itachi sitting at her bedside, she knew her 'parents' had told him.

She turned and buried her face into her pillow. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into the pillow's stuffing. "I failed you."

"No," Itachi half-whispered in response. He reached over to place his hand over hers and pulled her gently around to face him again. His eyes were as kind and warm as the smile he gave her. "You did very well."

Sakura sniffed back a cry. "But Sasuke--"

"Reacted badly." His lips pursed into a thin line as he stood up and bowed low before her. "I apologize for him. He has much to still learn about handling his feelings."

The little girl pulled herself up to a sitting position and wiped an arm across her eyes. Sakura tried to smile but the sting of Sasuke's words still throbbed painfully in her young heart. Her lips trembled on the verge of a sob. "Do you pity me?"

Itachi returned to his seat beside her, his gaze still trained to the floor. His hair had just grown long enough to conceal his face and when he spoke, his normally soft tone dropped to a hushed whisper. "Is that what Sasuke said?"

Her small pink head nodded once in confirmation. Itachi's shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh. "I pity those who cannot see how full of love you are."

She whimpered. "Because of my hair?"

Itachi met her gaze reluctantly and remained silent. People were superstitious by nature. Her strange hair and startling green eyes marked her as too unnatural. Too freakish. Likely cursed. In one fateful encounter, Sasuke exposed her to exactly the kind of hate and fear Itachi had so painstakingly tried to shield her from.

Anger flared from her heart and shook her little body with rage. "I hate it." She screamed out her frustration, curled her fingers into a fistful of pink locks, and yanked viciously. _"I hate it! I hate it! I HATE IT!"_

Hands grabbed her wrists before she could successfully tear any strands out and pulled her against him. "Stop," he commanded and squeezed her into such an unforgiving embrace Sakura's scream turned into a yelp of pain.

Her fingers curled into his shoulders and she squeezed him back just as fiercely, just as desperately, white-hot tears burning down her cheeks. All-out sobs burst from her small chest and spilled from her lips.

Itachi held her tight against him for a long time. He held her until the sadness pouring out became more snivels than sobs. Then he pulled her away enough to look her in the eyes and to wipe her tear-stained cheeks dry.

Two dark orbs as soft as crow feathers gleamed with the clarity and surety of a child's heart. "You look like springtime, Sakura," he admitted with a small, fond smile. "Like the cherry blossoms in bloom, but all year round. I've always thought so."

He held her gaze and watched as her face crumpled and green pools welled with tears of a completely different kind.

Sakura buried her cries in his arms again and held him tight.

Itachi would always make her feel wanted. Safe.

She vowed from that day on to become someone worthy of his feelings.

**———**

Parry.

Lunge and parry.

Parry. Parry. Counterstrike.

A fifteen-year-old Sakura dug her heels into the ground and wiped sweat from her brow as Itachi, a young man not yet twenty, allowed her a momentary reprieve. Her bamboo staff had cracked loudly and in rapid succession with each blow she'd just barely managed to deflect from him. She swallowed deep breaths as she shook some stiffness from her shoulders and readied herself for another wave of attacks.

Unarmed, Itachi approached her and gestured towards her raised weapon. "May I?"

Blood rushed to her face and made her ears burn with embarrassment. She relaxed her defensive stance and allowed him to approach.

"You're focusing too much on me and not your actions," he observed, completely oblivious to the way her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. He made minor adjustments to her angle and hold on the staff. He nudged her feet wider apart and she immediately felt the change in her balance.

Itachi stepped back, satisfied with the modifications, and assumed his own combative stance. "Ready?"

The combination of kicks and punches that rained down on her was relentless. "There will always be those stronger and faster than you," he continued, his breathing calm and unburdened by the exertion. So unlike her own. Blocking was all Sakura could do as she found herself backed into a corner. 

Itachi knocked the staff from her hands and pinned her to the wall by her shoulder. He leaned his face close to hers. "But rarely will they be as clever as you. Use that."

One hand clamped on his arm and the other on his waist. She spun them around with remarkable strength for such a lithe teenager and used her whole body to press him against the wall. Her eyes twinkled playfully as her hips wedged between his legs and her breasts were squeezed between them. " _Hai,_ sensei," she purred.

A small curve formed on the corner of his mouth. "Good." Itachi raised a hand to her face and traced his knuckles slowly along the curve of her jaw. His eyes shone with pride and admiration. _"Good."_

He kicked her legs from under her and combined the momentum of her fall with his weight to roll them onto the ground. He crouched on top of her, his face hovering close to hers. "But your body is still mostly that of a child. Don't choose seduction unless you're certain."

Sakura huffed indignantly. She knew the reason why Itachi, the newly crowned Uchiha Shadow, had personally taken over her strength and defense training; had heard the change in men's tones as they moved from calling her _abomination_ to _exotic._

She wanted to make it clear that he had it wrong. "I didn't."

Sakura disappeared from beneath him in a puff of smoke and was replaced by a heavy piece of wood roughly the same size and weight as her. Itachi stared at it for a moment before pulling himself up onto his knees. He craned his neck back to look at Sakura-- the _real_ Sakura --still standing against the wall and his smile widened. "Distraction. Well played."

She stared at his still-dark eyes and scowled. He would've known she'd swapped in a clone if he'd had his sharingan on. "You're holding back," she said, annoyed, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why?"

"A teacher is allowed to set the pace of learning," he breathed out as he climbed to his feet. "Why rush?"

Sakura looked away. "I need… I _want_ to be stronger. You know I can be. You were already so accomplished by my age! You even--"

"Don't ever compare yourself to me," he cut in, and there's a warning edge to his usually gentle voice. Itachi closed the distance between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I was raised and moulded for war, Sakura. My hopes for you are... _greater_ than that."

Sakura met his unflinching gaze. Her fists clenched white at her sides but she remained silent.

She'd still been too young, too inexperienced when a swift and deadly coup was attempted on Uchiha power. Though Itachi did not arrive in time to save his parents nor half of the family's political and military council, his name became legend when he single-handedly swooped in and stopped the attack. He'd saved his brother and countless others in the palace that night, including Sakura.

And he'd only been fifteen.

What she wanted was to be capable of protecting the ones she loved like that.

No… the _one_ she loved like that.

Itachi turned, assumed a defensive position a few paces away, and gestured with his one raised hand for her to come at him. "Again," he commanded.

For months he trained her, pushed her physically to build up her chakra reserves. He honed her skills in stealth and in reconnaissance until they were on par with his own. Sakura started dying her hair and he taught her how to conceal herself in the shadows.

Her perfect and completely natural chakra control made it easy to place her into medic training. Itachi had organized her entire education from the moment she turned ten, and when Sakura wasn't training with him, she was studying chakra medicine and theory. She was completely committed to becoming someone Itachi could be proud of.

The first time he fell during their training, it wasn't because of anything she did. Itachi simply lost his balance.

On her sixteenth birthday, he asked her if she'd want to spend more time with him.

Sakura didn't even blink before giving her response. "Always," she'd answered. "You should know by now I'd do _anything_ for you."

And it became their promise.

**———**

When she slips into his bedchambers later that night, she finds him lounged and asleep beside the fireplace. Sakura approaches silently, kneels on the floor beside him, and runs a whisper-light touch over his long, satin-smooth hair. She admires the gentle contours his face relaxes into while he sleeps; the delicate curve of his long lashes and the fine outlines of a smile surrounding softly parted lips.

The room is warm and Itachi had foregone his silk top, opting instead for a light evening robe in a rich-black that matched the loose-fitting silk pants. Sakura draws in her bottom lip and chews on it as her eyes indulge in the generous view of sculpted muscles over the smooth, unblemished stretch of his abdomen. Her fingers itch with the desire to touch, to feel, to possess.

"You tease," she whispers and presses her lips softly over his. A small smile curves the corner of his lip before dark eyes flutter open.

"Sakura."

She rolls back onto her heels as he pulls himself up to a sitting position. Itachi's gaze is bright and keen with the reflected light of the fireplace as he takes her hand in his and lifts her up to sit beside him.

Sakura leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder with a dreamy sigh. "Have you been resting all this time?"

"Most of it." He feels her body tense with worry and can see, in his mind's eye, the frown forming on her brow. "I wanted to conserve my energy," Itachi explains.

"For what?"

He nudges her up gently and takes a moment to admire her in the fire's warm light. Sakura had removed all evidence of the evening's festivities before coming to him, dressed only in a simple nightgown. Itachi's eyes linger on her bare neckline. "For you."

Sakura lowers her gaze as she fetches from her pocket the notably missing accessory. Her cheeks tinge pink as she slips the necklace into his open palm. "It's done. Everyone there thought I was... that we're engaged."

He blinks and stares at her curiously. "And are we not?"

She flusters at the amusement in his voice and fixes her gaze on the fire. Sakura can't trust herself to look at him directly. "It's not part of our arrangement," she responds sheepishly.

A rare, deep and throaty chuckle startles her into looking back at him. His eyes twinkle with the same, deeply satisfied amusement. "We have long since surpassed the original terms."

The proposal made two years ago had been simple: being close to her gave him the excuse to disappear when he needed to, and being more closely associated to him gave her greater freedom of movement without ridicule or harassment. His protection for her alibi.

When Itachi eventually confided his illness to her, she helped him hide it better by pretending their relationship had become more intimate.

But they didn't need to pretend for very long.

A cool hand cups her face and gently holds her gaze to his. Itachi's expression is soft with earnestness. "Am I not clear enough about my feelings?"

"You are," she answers honestly, her cheeks flushing once more, and lets out an exasperated sigh. "But.." The frown is heavy on her brow as she tries to wrangle her misgivings into words. "You don't believe we're soulmates. So this can't--"

" _\--_ do anything but complicate Fate," he finishes softly.

A somber silence falls between them.

Itachi looks down at the necklace in his hand and rubs his fingers over the most centred ring. He'd told her once that each ring represented a special memory. He rolled this particular ring between his fingers and lifted it up for closer inspection. "So much of my life is set for me. Preordained and fixed with inevitability." Something from the ring catches the light from the fire, momentarily flashing Sakura and making her squint. "But you were my one surprise."

He holds the necklace out to her and she sees, now, the tiny gem embedded in the back of the ring. In the fire's light, it gleams with a pink radiance. "You instilled desires and purpose beyond what was destined for me. And I made choices… choices I wouldn't have seen otherwise… to be here, still, with you."

Itachi places the necklace back into her open palm and covers it with both his hands. "With this, I officially terminate our arrangement." He leans forward and presses a kiss to her brow. "There is nothing left to pretend."

Sakura barely hears the finality of his last words over the rapid beating of her heart. She swallows hard to keep it from popping out and its excited pounding is deafening to her ears. "Itachi…"

He cups her face with both hands and draws her into a deep, passionate kiss. A kiss he'd never allowed himself to give her before. His tongue rolls over hers, stroking long-repressed desires within her, and her body ignites. Heat pulses through her veins and she whimpers, reaching after him, when he pulls away.

"Tonight," he breathes against her lips, voice unusually rasped. "Let me honour our promise."

Sakura swallows, knowing she should probably leave it unspoken but desperately, selfishly wanting to hear him say it anyway. Otherwise, it could all just be a dream. "Promise?"

Itachi stands and lifts her up into his warm and comforting embrace. She buries herself into his chest and crushes against him, relishing in the bare skin-to-skin contact; feeling safe and valued and wanted but also starving for something far more _intimate_.

"Anything," he whispers into her hair, surrendering himself for the first and only time in his life. _"Always."_

———


	4. Chapter 4

Sakura awakes to the feel of a heart beating slow and steady beneath her palm. An arm is wrapped warmly around her and the weight of a hand on her back feels incredibly reassuring.

Because it means she has not woken up alone.

Her eyes open slowly to find Itachi deep in slumber beside her, his face graced with rare serenity.

Carefully, she lifts herself up onto her elbows. His hand slides down her back and curls up again in a soft caress, adoring her even in his sleep, and her body tingles with the memory of all the ways it made her sing with pleasure. She brushes strands of smooth, ink-black hair from his face and places a kiss on his closed eyelid.

Itachi's chest rises with a deep, waking breath and she smiles as he blinks sleepily up at her. "Sakura." A smirk tugs the corner of his lips as he drowsily raises a free hand to cup her face. His thumb strokes her cheek in a gesture of awe— of wonder at how seamlessly dream melds into reality.

Her face lights up with laughter, warm and cheerful and full of affection. "Good morning."

Itachi takes another long breath and his chest swells with feeling. Every achievement he'd ever gained on the path to becoming the Uchiha Shadow paled in comparison to the feel of her sweet laughter resonating from her body pressed against his. His gaze falls onto her lips and when he speaks again, his tone is hushed and reverent. "May I kiss you?"

Sakura blinks, momentarily taken aback, before bursting into another wholehearted laugh. "Yes," she responds and descends her mouth onto his. His hand rises up her back to tangle a gentle fistful of her hair and she giggles as he pulls her tighter against himself, rolls them over, and deepens the kiss.

His mouth is as soft and tender as the words whispered between them the night before.

His hand runs down the length of her side, unhurried and appreciative, and Sakura hums a few breathy notes of pleasure. She sighs. "Aren't you sparring with Sasuke this morning?"

Her body arches languidly as he marks a trail of kisses slowly down her stomach.

"He will forgive a little tardiness."

They roll in the sheets in a tangle of soft smiles, playful intimacy, and pleasure-filled sighs; casually relearning each other's body in the early morning light.

It is worth Sasuke's icy glare when they finally do appear, together and thirty minutes late, on the training grounds.

Itachi is light and almost teasing in the way he dances circles around his brother. He flips high over Sasuke's head to avoid an attack and steals a glance in Sakura's direction. Her eyes sparkle with secret amusement. She winks. He grins as his hands move through the signs needed for a counterstrike and it takes his brother down with little physical effort.

A few more minutes pass with Sasuke catching nothing but air and his increased frustration tugs guiltily at Itachi's heartstrings. He intentionally delays his defense by a fraction of a second in the final round and it is just enough for his brother to get in a single hit.

The small singe on his shoulder is worth the look of relief that crosses Sasuke's face as Itachi congratulates him and ends the match.

"He knew it was a pity point," Sakura informs him later when they'd stolen away to the gardens. She sits in a secluded shade beside a stream and Itachi lies with her, resting his head in her lap. "You should've seen the way he scowled at you afterwards."

One hand glides carefully over his shoulder and presses healing chakra to the bruise.

Itachi runs his fingers through some dark locks spilling down her shoulder and muses over it casually. How long had it been since he'd last seen it's natural color? "I was not the only reason for his mood this morning."

Sakura's ears burn red with acknowledgement. She feigns disinterest and shrugs. "He's always been jealous of our time together. If he ever felt anything kind towards me, it's gone now."

A pained grin tugs the side of Itachi's mouth. He lets his hand drop back to his side. "Sasuke is not indifferent to you. We were taught from an early age not to show weakness and he... was lead to believe certain emotions to be such."

A knowing smile curls her lips. "But you were cleverer."

His fingers intertwine with hers over his heart. "Affection is not weakness. I am disarmed but not vulnerable." He studies her for a moment and his brow rises with genuine interest. "What were you thinking when you watched us spar?"

She beams, keen and confident in her answer. "That I'd beat him. Sharingan or no."

"And I?"

Sakura shakes her head and laughs. "I couldn't even try. You taught me everything I know." She traces the side of his face lovingly. "And I like this view too much."

Itachi's eyes flutter closed. "What did you think of his technique?"

Her fingers continue their idle caress as she hums thoughtfully. "He's gotten more aggressive. Bold. Impatient. Like he believes he'll beat you sooner than later."

Dark brows rose again at her perceptiveness. "Like I have a weakness."

Sakura cups his face in her hands and waits for him to open his eyes before bowing down to kiss him. "You don't," she breathes against his lips. "Not while you have me."

His gaze locks solemnly with hers and his expression becomes so grave, her gut wrenches uneasily. "What is it?"

Itachi sits up and looks down at his hands guiltily. "That was not the weakness he saw," he admits softly, his voice rasped with an inner torment. "Last night I was... selfish. Forces are moving into play and I—"

"NO," Sakura interrupts with a firm shake of her head. "No," she stubbornly repeats, wrapping herself around him and forcefully turning his gaze back up to her, eyes gleaming. "You don't get to regret this. Okay? _I don't care_ what happens."

He pulls her forehead against his and smiles sadly. "But you do care. We would not be here otherwise."

A traitorous tear streaks down her cheek as she pretends not to feel the ache in her chest. Itachi brushes the tear away with his thumb. "There will be a day when I must go somewhere you cannot. Promise me you will not try."

Hot tears sting her eyes, fierce and blazing, as she holds his gaze and pushes him back. "No" she says coldly, fists clenched and body quivering with conviction. "I won't."

Itachi blinks. He watches as she bites down hard on the sob that wants to burst from her chest. He watches as unwavering resolve steels her nerves. He hadn't expected such a blunt refusal. There is not enough fight in him (ever) to argue when her mind is this set. "Alright," he says coaxing her gently back into his arms. "I understand."

He holds her until he feels her relax and eventually return the embrace. Then he lies back onto the grass and rolls her down beside him. Itachi brushes her her hair back in silent apology, traces his fingers down her arm, and strokes her side to convey the feelings that cannot safely be spoken.

She closes the little distance between them and crushes her lips against his in forgiveness. She feels and tastes the ease of his acceptance. Then she bites down hard on his bottom lip and swears her promise in his blood. _"Always."_

Sakura opens her eyes as she licks the redness from her lips and stares at him. A single tear rolls silently down Itachi's cheek. He nods once, holds her chin, and draws her back in, staining her mouth again with his blood.

She had chosen. Her fate would be sealed with his.

He tries not to taste regret in the bitterness of their kiss.

**———**

The preparations only take a week. Time and discretion took priority and everything but the essentials were stripped away.

The ceremony would be small. Private.

Sakura sat before the Council veiled in the most bejeweled fabric she'd ever had to wear. Itachi sat beside her in full Shadow regality, sleek and black and deadly with two symbolic swords sheathed at his side. Together, they endured two unavoidable hours of tradition and decorum. Scrolls were laid out and, in a silence thick with bated breaths, they signed the spaces necessary to legitimise their union and make her, at last, _Uchiha Sakura._

Itachi lifted the veil from her face and helped her to her feet. "Happy birthday," he whispered under his breath before hooking an arm under hers. She glanced at him and his eyes danced with pride and affection.

They turned to face the Council and the members bowed, for the very first time, to their new Queen.

**———**

Day by day, they discover new forms of quiet intimacy together.

Absentminded caresses. Secretly intertwined fingers beneath their many-layered robes. There is something irresistible about simply running her fingers through his hair, something lovely about how he drifts off slowly and peacefully in her lap.

Itachi doesn't say it out loud, but she can tell in the way his fingers sometimes brush her hair and how he pulls back sometimes to look at her that he longs for her natural hair color.

The memory of words once spoken, so pure in their childish clarity, echo in her mind every time he looks at her in that way. _You look like springtime, Sakura. Like the cherry blossoms in bloom, but all year round._

He's never asked her and she's never brought it up. But perhaps one day, soon, she might surprise him and remove the dye altogether. For now, however, her choice remained to keep her hair masked.

It felt safer. Especially when he wasn't with her.

But when he _was_ with her, Itachi exuded a gentleness unmarred by the cold and calculated brilliance he usually donned for the rest of the world. With her, his expressions are softer, his voice warmer. There's peace in his eyes and calm leisureliness in his movements… as if the person he is with her in their most intimate moments, stripped of title and status and destiny, had always been his truest nature.

She sensed the danger in it. How such happiness and peace could never be anything more than transient in the life they'd committed to.

But as long as the Uchiha Shadow had his Queen, he would not be vulnerable. Disarmed, but never weak. She would make sure of it.

Sakura awoke one chilly morning before dawn alone in the bed. The balcony doors were open and she could see Itachi’s silhouette outside, the contrast of his black-silk robe against a brightening sky both striking and familiar— and _exactly_ like the man in her dreams.

Every fibre in her being was now convinced they were one and the same. But at this point, it didn't make a difference whether he believed it or not— they were together and bound in the most intimate way possible. Nothing else mattered.

He murmured something to a large raven perched on his outstretched arm and it cawed.

Sakura pulled a sheet over her bare shoulders and cautiously stepped out to join them. "Itachi?"

He darted a glance back at her before raising the bird up over his head. It spread its vast wings and thrust itself upwards in a mighty burst of flight. Sakura stood beside him and watched as the massive black bird soared higher and higher before dissolving itself into seven smaller crows that scattered to the winds.

"Certain things will come to light," he began in cryptic explanation. "But do not confuse half-truths with full ones." Cold fingers intertwined with hers and squeezed in a gesture of reassurance. "I did what I thought was best."

She pursed her lips with concern. Eyes narrowed as she studied his profile carefully: standing tall beside her, poise strong and certain as he watched the last of the crows disappear into the receding night sky.

The sun crept over the horizon and reached for him with its first long rays of splendour.

Itachi smiled calmly down at her.

Blinding-white sunlight seared his image onto her retinas, swallowed him whole, and exploded with celestial brilliance.

**———**

A storm was coming.

The winds shifted abruptly and darkened already-moody clouds hanging low and heavy in the sky.

The man in her dreams turned against the wind and towards her for the first time, head bowed just enough to still conceal his face, and doesn't so much fall as descend softly to his knees. He doubled over and curled into himself as a particularly cold blast whipped at his back.

Sakura ran towards him but stopped when she got close enough to see, sheltered in his carefully cupped palms from the icy currents, the delicate petals of a single cherry blossom in full bloom.

**———**

They move under the cover of darkness, with the moon absent and the stars hidden behind ominously thick clouds.

Sakura is in her old room casually reading when she feels the first rumble shake the palace walls. She doesn't sleep in the master bedchamber when Itachi is away because it feels too big and too empty without him there.

The long red curtains at her balcony billow softly from the tremor and everything goes quiet. Too quiet.

Like the sound of an ambush.

She shuts the book and sprints across the room to where her kunai are.

A shadowy figure slams through her doors just as her fingers touch steel. Wood splinters and chakra-charged lightning explode in the dangerous trail of its wake. The dark form lands roughly in the space beside her and it manifests into the shape of Itachi in full battle wardrobe, unarmed, bent on one knee and arms lowering from a defensive brace. What remains of his sleeves are scorched and smoking from whatever had hurled him into her room.

Sakura's pulse spikes as she drags him to his feet and instinctively backs away from the broken door. Itachi looks tired and tense. His clothes are frayed in multiple locations and thick with the stench of ash and gunpowder. He glares at her with sharingan-red eyes and she is horrified to see them also rimmed with blood.

"There are many enemies tonight."

She slams a hand onto his chest and pushes both healing and replenishing chakra as fast as she safely can into him. He sways unsteadily at the surprising surge of energy but she holds him firm. Her expression darkens when she realizes just how depleted he’d let himself become.

How far and how long had he been fighting? "You've used too much!"

"I had no choice." He blasts would-be assailants coming through what remained of her door with a series of vicious fire jutsus. "They're here for you, too."

He cuts her chakra transfer abruptly and stalks over to seal and booby-trap the door for future invaders. Sakura stuffs kunai quickly into her robe and fastens the belt securely around her waist. She ties her hair back just as Itachi shoves the balcony doors open to the night. He tears loose one long, crimson curtain and ties one end to the second curtain still hanging. Then he wraps the other end around his hand and runs out onto the balcony. "Sakura!"

She runs after him just as he launches himself from the rail. He spins, his free arm outstretched to her, and she leaps into his embrace.

He catches her by the waist and her additional momentum sends them spiralling in an aerial dance across the sky.

Itachi yanks on the fabric, tearing the bar from the wall, and it screeches across the balcony floor until it catches on the rail. The trajectory of their free-fall swings sharply just as their legs brush contact with enemy steel.

Flames erupt from Itachi's lips as Sakura simultaneously raises a chakra shield around them, their combined jutsus transforming them into an impenetrable ball of fire spinning through the ranks of their attackers.

They hit the ground fast and hard. Itachi takes the brunt of the landing and skids to one knee, Sakura rolling over him and deflecting three kunai aimed squarely at his back. She hooks her arm under his and hauls him to his feet, their backs pressed against each other ready for the next attack. "Stay with me!"

They move as one in seamless attack and defense. Years of one-to-one training come alive as Sakura matches Itachi’s every action with a swift and complementing strike of her own. Their technique is flawless, their execution brutal. They cut through their enemies with deadly precision and move together like an invincible whirlwind, never straying far from each other's side, never missing the other’s stride. The melding of the Uchiha Shadow’s prowess and his Queen’s grace elevate their battle to a near-art form; their movements a hypnotic blend of controlled chaos and unleashed power.

There is absolute trust and confidence as he propels her over the army surrounding them. Sakura releases a monstrous round of fire and as gravity pulls her back down she reaches out— not blindly but instinctively —complete in her certainty that Itachi will be where she needs him to be to catch her.

But the enemies keep coming.

"Shadow clones," Sakura seethes as a handful crumble and vanish from a vicious ground punch.

Red eyes scan the wave of attackers for a particular chakra signature. After a few seconds, Itachi nods towards a single soldier standing several metres from the center of their storm. "There."

He takes her hand and launches her once more into the sky. She throws a protective shield beneath her as weapons try to drag her down and swiftly leaps over armored heads to knock out the owner of the clones with a bone-breaking blow to the chest.

Half of their attackers disappear immediately in a puff of smoke... but the other, hardier half close ranks around the Uchiha Shadow, who'd fallen once more to his knees.

_No!_ Sakura's heart seizes as she grabs a spear and sprints back to his side.

A concentrated blast of lightning surges down on them and takes the form of several, canine-like figures. They howl and scorch their way through the remaining army, kicking up an electrically-charged dirt storm but leaving both Uchihas unharmed.

When the dust clears and Sakura manages to see Itachi again, he is not alone.

"My apologies," says the stranger still standing protectively over him. "The palace was a maze tonight." His all-black uniform is as battered and filthy as Itachi's, his hair streaked silver and charcoal black. "I brought reinforcements. We should be safer soon."

Itachi nods and allows the man to help him to his feet. "Your timing is truly exceptional, Kakashi."

The man raises his hand in the signal for ‘all clear’ and similarly-clad shinobi appear from the palace to put out the fires and secure the perimeter. 

Both men turn to watch Sakura’s approach and when a single grey eye locks with hers, Sakura freezes with recognition.

"You've met," observes Itachi.

The eye crinkles in a smile. "Not formally, no." He runs both hands roughly through his hair to sift out the worst of the dirt and the soot. "It's a pleasure to see you again... and alive."

She frowns and steps towards him cautiously. The name Itachi had called him and the attack he released... "You’re... the _Lightning Wolf_ Hatake Kakashi. The Shadowmaker."

His brow rises with surprise and he gives a short bow. "You honour me with those titles."

She returns the gesture and watches with a heavy frown as Itachi drags his foot a little to stand beside her. She huffs with worry and exasperation and places both hands on his chest. She replenishes him with her remaining chakra reserves and, finding it wanting, starts giving him some of her personal stock.

"Sakura," he warns and grips both her wrists.

Her eyes flash up at him. "I'm giving you everything I can." _End of discussion._

Itachi matches her stare for a second before reluctantly letting go.

Kakashi watches with quiet interest. "Sakura," he echoes thoughtfully. "Your talent certainly precedes you."

She scowls and eyes the silver-haired shinobi. Itachi seemed to know and trust the man, but did that trust run deep enough for him to have told about her? Itachi did not open up easily and, even with her, only confided information about others when absolutely necessary. What would compel him to tell the famed _Lightning Wolf_ about her abilities?

Apart from the fact that Kakashi was the one Itachi had intended her to send a message to the night of the ball, she knew nothing about him that didn't come from reading battle reports.

An unexpected feeling of resentment and jealousy bristles inside her. Did Itachi trust this man with secrets more than he trusted her? No one else had ever noticed enough to comment on her ability to mould and control chakra before. No one else had ever looked beyond her ‘exotic’ features. No one else, that is, except Itachi.

A crow's caw cuts the air in alarm. Sakura looks up and follows Itachi's gaze to a small black bird slowly circling an area of the surrounding forest several metres away.

Still-red sharingan eyes narrow. He takes Sakura's hands once more into his and squeezes.

"What is it?"

Itachi raises her hands to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles in quiet apology.

Sakura's eyes widen.

Her breath hitches and her gut twists painfully with understanding. "Don’t you dare."

Itachi lets their hands slip apart as he strides over to Kakashi, his expression cold.

The older shinobi assesses the situation grimly. His hands slip into pants pockets and his shoulders slump in defeat. "I said we were safer," his voice is heavy with regret. "Not safe."

"Protect her," Itachi says simply and for his ears only.

Kakashi nods. "Ah."

Sakura grabs Itachi by the arm and forces him back around to look at her. Dread stews in the pit of her stomach. "What are you going to do?"

For the first time in her life, she sees Itachi hesitate. He cups her face and meets her gaze for a long, meaningful moment. The roar of the fires and people bustling around them momentarily fade out with the intensity of the unspoken that passes between them.

"See this never happens again."

Itachi's lips descend onto hers and they are so soft, so fierce, so desperate to taste her.

_"Always,”_ he growls.

The rare anguish in his voice pierces her heart; makes it bleed with foreboding. Sakura reaches up to pull him closer but stumbles as she grasps at nothingness. Her eyes fly open just in time to see his dark shape disappear into the forest and she screams.

_"ITACHI!"_

Hot, angry tears sting her eyes. She clenches her fists and takes a running start after him, but is stopped by a hand firmly holding her by the shoulder. "Uchiha-sama," the older man speaks respectfully. "We have wounded. Your medical skills would be of great help."

She grits her teeth and wipes at her eyes with her arm. She stares after the forest for a moment, fists still clenched white, and nods reluctantly.

Itachi trained her well for battle, but her strength would always be in healing. He knew that.

A few minutes later, the winds change.

A strong gust hits Sakura and prickles her skin with ill portent. She stops working on a patient and looks uneasily towards the horizon.

A monstrous screech fills the air as a gigantic, eight-headed serpent rises above the forest canopy. Sakura watches in horror as a massive, skeletal Susanoo— the Uchiha's ultimate blood limit —rises slowly above the treeline to meet the beast.

She would recognize the intermingled red and gold chakra anywhere. "No," she gasps in panicked disbelief.

Air crackles with the hyper-charged intensity of the colossal chakra release.

Strong arms wrap around her shoulders and what feel like the jaws of several dogs clamp firmly onto her legs as Sakura screams and screams and screams.

_IT’S KILLING HIM!_ She thinks she cries as her lungs burn with the exertion of maintaining her deafening screams. _His body can't survive that much chakra use!_

The Susanoo, now partially armoured, draws from its side an ethereal sword. The serpent lunges and the humanoid shape cuts off all but one of its heads in a single swing of the sword. The creature’s scream is as ungodly and painful to hear as Sakura’s own.

Without missing a beat, the Susanoo swings the sword back up and pierces the serpent’s heart. A spiritual form is torn from the remaining serpent body and absorbed into the divine sword.

Sakura is bordering on hysterical. She thinks she feels some give from her captor and yanks herself viciously away. She runs through the forest heart racing, terrified, furious and desperate to get to Itachi's side.

She reaches the second battlefield just as the Susanoo is disintegrating around him. Itachi is on his knees, blood trickling from his lips and down one arm. She runs to him and catches his body just before it hits the ground.

Kakashi pauses at the edge of the battlefield. The area is completely decimated, having been reduced to little more than ash and dirt. At the center of it all is Sakura, cradling the fallen Shadow in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably as she desperately tries to breathe life into him, presses a trembling hand to his chest, and pushes the last of her available chakra into him.

Kakashi finds himself falling to his knees beside her and pulling her hand firmly but gently away. "It's enough," he hears himself say as he watches her bury her face into bloodied hands. He leans forward and respectfully closes Itachi's lifeless eyes, forever to be frozen in their Mangekyou state.

When Sakura lifts her gaze from her hands, he nearly chokes on his own terrible revelation.

"I failed," she says brokenly, face smeared with tears and dirt and blood— _so much_ blood —exactly like the woman with the glowing green eyes in his dreams.

It is all Kakashi can do to swallow, to keep his heart from collapsing with the intense rate it's beating, and to keep his eyes from bulging out of their sockets.

"He needed me and I—" Sakura buries her face again in her hands. She screams her throat hoarse with anguish.

After a minute, she looks up at him once more, eyes as much red as they are green now, and her sudden calm feels both extremely frightening and extremely dangerous to him.

" _I hate you_ , Hatake Kakashi."

**———**


	5. Chapter 5

Shock descends like an invisible veil over her head, muffling the voices around her and filtering her vision as if through a thick screen.

Sakura feels herself detach emotionally— she is present but not.

The last clear image she sees is Sasuke emerging from the far end of the battlefield, his face stricken with something akin to horror and regret. Her body moves to stand but it feels slow; resistant to her command. Figures blur with movement around her as her own, single motion crawls at a snail's pace.

She draws a breath that causes her chest to constrict painfully, like a poison stab to her heart, and she reels at the shock.

Two hands steady her instantly— one on her back and one cupping her shoulder. There is yelling. Anger. Ripples of fear and distrust. Another blur of movement beside her and she is suddenly free of her support.

Sakura falls.

She collapses beside the body and her face aligns with his. Instinctively, she reaches for him. Her trembling fingers meet still-warm skin and the pain in her chest flares again, briefly, with hope.

In her mind, she sees him open his eyes and turn towards her warmly _. Sakura_ , his lips softening with the form of her name. He smiles that small, gentle smile saved only for her. _Always._

Then the vision vanishes and the Uchiha Shadow is still as death once more.

Sounds of argument erupt around her. Dirt rises from the scuffle. Fear seizes her consciousness and she moves, protectively, over his body. _Stay with me!_ The words are torn from her throat. _Please_ , she begs, unlocking a fresh wave of tears.

_Please._

_Please._

_I won't fail you again. So, PLEASE…_

Someone shouts a response behind her. The words are lost but the tone resonates a brief pulse of comfort to her aching heart. She looks up and turns, seeing but unseeing through her veil of tears.

A hazy vision of several figures materializes before her. The closest has his back towards her and blocks most of her view. Facing him, she makes out three distinct forms. The one in the middle is struggling and straining, and it's his voice that calls out to her, pleading with increasing desperation and heartbreak.

Sakura stares emptily for what feels like seconds and a lifetime. In her detached state, his words are just garbled sounds.

Strong hands haul her up to her feet and a face forces itself into her focus, so achingly similar but so much colder. Darker. Angrier. She feels her body shaken roughly and she cries out, clutching at her chest, suddenly terrified that the already-fragile contents of her soul would explode across the scorched field.

_I can't_ — she thinks she says.

_I can't shatter here._

"Take me home."

**———**

The next few days pass in a numbing blur. She remembers standing before his funeral pyre and watching the embers float up to the heavens. She remembers screaming and clawing a dreadful fit when she couldn't find his necklace; panic seizing her as she realized he was still wearing it when he—

She remembers waking to moonlight gently spilling into the bedroom, the balcony curtains billowing in a cool breeze, and finding the necklace hanging in her outstretched hand over the edge of the bed.

The hollow space Itachi leaves behind isn't just in her chest. Every shadow in the palace is a vacant space where a memory of him once stood. She feels the ache of his loss in every fibre of her being, every day, in everything and everyone she sees.

And it's awful. It feels exactly like what she deserves. Without Itachi, fingers grow bold in pointing their accusation.

"She's poison. Cursed."

"It's her fault our Shadow is dead."

"The destruction led straight to her. SHE was their target. SHE was the one they wanted."

Sakura submerges herself in the bath water and screams her anguish. Everything they were saying was true. She had wracked her mind, replayed those final moments with him again and again in her head. And always, she came to the same conclusions: if only she'd been with him from the start. If only she'd refused to leave his side.

If only he hadn't loved her.

In another life where they'd never met or where she'd never existed, would he have gotten sick at all?

Maybe they were right and she was poison. Maybe Itachi wouldn't have had to die protecting her.

_Self-sacrifice is the essence of the shinobi. Never to see the light of day, but to serve as its Shadow._

Fragments of memories drift in and out of her consciousness; snapshots of lessons and conversations surfacing as quickly as they dissipate, his voice simultaneously soothing and searing her aching heart.

_I wouldn't find it cruel._

_You would. You will._

Storm clouds prowl heavy with premonition across the early evening sky and the air is as thick and suffocating as the memories. As soon as she dismisses the servants for the evening, Sakura runs.

She bolts over the palace walls and into the forest blindly, wildly, her guilt and feelings of failure directing her towards the oncoming storm.

_Affection is not weakness. I am disarmed but not vulnerable._

Branches whip and claw at her bare feet, tearing her too-delicate nightgown and streaking it red with her blood. The pain doesn't slow her. Even as her legs scream and her chest burns, she keeps her merciless pace in hopes of outrunning the stream of tears trailing behind her.

So many precious moments that now felt too few flash before her eyes. _The brightest flames burn out the fastest,_ he'd once explained to her, and it's another stab to her heart that she'd once thought of him as the sun.

A scorching-white flash of lightning strikes close by, consuming a tree in its rage and singeing the surrounding air. Her exposed skin prickles with the aftershock and, with newly sparked adrenaline, she pushes herself faster and further from the unbearable agony of her reality.

In her mind's eye, she can see Itachi's silhouette on the balcony melting seamlessly into the man in her dreams. Her soulmate. _There is nothing left to pretend._

The sky rumbles a warning that resonates to her very soul. Thick, grey clouds collapse and the rain falls in torrents, determined to drown the world in its mourning.

The sky's grief weighs heavy on her hair and her clothes. The evening chill bites into her weary bones. Mud stings the cuts on her feet and tries to suck her down into the earth, demanding sacrifice. Sakura struggles and slides clumsily as exhaustion takes a firm grasp of her. She screams her defiance, clambers, and keeps running.

_There will be a day when I must go somewhere you cannot. Promise you will not try._

She reaches a storm-fueled river, turbulent and foaming with fury, and turns sharply upriver without missing a beat. From the corner of her eye, she sees an encampment across the fast-flowing water. She makes out a handful of caravans and the whiff of a newly rekindled fire. There's a shout as she surges past and she thinks, briefly, how hideous she must look if they'd seen more than just a streak of white and red beyond the downpour.

_My hopes for you are… greater than that._

The rain lightens from rage to melancholy. After a while, she notices the river become narrower and calmer. Perhaps even narrow enough to cross. Sakura angles her momentum inland, does a sharp U-turn and runs across the water.

She stays afloat for several running steps before she is reminded, in the crudest way possible, the most important rule of chakra usage— the more physically exhausted you are, the higher the adrenaline, the faster you burn out.

She stumbles a little over midway across the river before her chakra gives out and she falls into the water, completely depleted. Reflex takes over as she fights with what energy she has left to get her head above the water's surface.

_Staying afloat is easy. It's a primal instinct._

Once she manages to gulp a lung-full of air, however, the struggle suddenly doesn't feel so important. Itachi was gone and she was ruined. What was the point of anything anymore? For the first time in what feels like hours, she allows herself to relax. Despite the danger, she allows herself to close her eyes and let go.

The currents pull her body down and she lets it, lets the water fill the hollowness in her chest. And for the briefest of moments, she feels whole and at peace.

_But if you can't trust yourself to float, trust that I won't let you sink._

Her consciousness is slipping when hands plunge after her and drag her forcefully back to the surface. The world spins dizzily around her. The fullness that calmed her moments before now feels awful and vertigo makes her roll over and vomit her insides out before her chest can explode with disgust. Gasping breaths rake the insides of her battered lungs blue and icicles chip at every frayed vein in her body. She cries and shrieks at fever-driven shadows of him, smirking just beyond her reach and dissolving slowly into light.

_Always, Sakura._

_Sakura._

_Sakura._

And just as everything, mercifully, goes blank, a word she doesn't remember him ever saying to her brushes smooth and commanding against her consciousness.

_LIVE._

**———**

"Gross," the young blonde mutters, removing his puke-stained orange top and soaking it thoroughly in the river.

Kakashi carries her drenched and unconscious body to the grassy part of the bank and lays her down gently. "Don't leave marks," he reminds quietly. They were on the wrong side of the river and technically trespassing now.

He lifts the cover from his left eye and scans her carefully with his sharingan. Sakura's chakra levels were dangerously low and her body physically depleted, but she was stabilizing. Kakashi breathed out a sigh of relief.

On the surface, his demeanor is calm and composed. But inside, his heart beat wildly against his chest.

If he'd been even a second later, she would've been lost. Completely.

Her nightgown was tattered, ripped, and frayed all over in perfect reflection of her inner turmoil. The remains of her hem were stained dark beyond recognition.

He pulls a kunai from his pocket and cut strips of fabric from his wet sleeve. Gently, he wipes at the gashes on her feet until they're sufficiently clean. Searching his vest pockets, he produces a small container of his personally-mixed salve. A spiced but soothing, menthol-like scent permeates the air as he treats the worst of her cuts with it.

He's tempted to further bandage her feet but can't risk leaving evidence that could be used against them later. Tensions were high and, if seen, their conspicuous actions could be spun into greater hostility and distrust. The salve was already pushing it-- solid enough to protect the wound from accumulating too much dirt while she walked but also easily washed away with a few rubs.

Remembering just how angry and defensive the younger prince had reacted to him simply catching Sakura when she'd faltered that fateful night makes Kakashi wince. He'd tried to reason with the Uchiha first; tried to plea with Sakura second _. I'm sorry. I came to help,_ he'd called after her _. Please don't turn us away. Sakura! Let us help._

She'd looked up and right at him. Her gaze unfocused, tear-filled, and he'd known then that even if they were connected somehow by destiny, in that moment she was too far away for him to reach. He doubted she'd even heard his words.

But Sasuke had.

_We take care of our own_ , the younger prince spat at him as he'd been physically removed from the palace and surrounding property along with the other Konoha shinobi. Kakashi tried not to think about what happened to the attackers that were captured. His crew made camp on the other side of the river and the Uchihas tolerated them under the premise that they would leave the land completely when the wounded recovered enough to travel.

None of them had been invited to the funeral.

Kakashi snuck in under the cover of darkness to pay his respects and keep tabs on Sakura as best he could. When she nearly broke down over the misplacement of Itachi's necklace, he spent two full nights using all his S-rank skills in stealth and intelligence to locate and return the late Shadow's accessory to her without being seen.

The promise to protect her had been made sincerely but now it bore a lifetime commitment. Burdened by such an impossible vow, Kakashi needed the small, personal victory just as much as Sakura needed consolation.

The Fates surely had it in for him. He wondered if Itachi even knew how bad his track record was at keeping such promises.

The call of a lone hawk soaring overhead drags Kakashi back into the present. The hair on the back of his neck prickles with warning.

They were looking for her.

Naruto moves to stand beside him, his washed shirt draped over one shoulder. He, too, glances up at the sky and the approaching dawn. "We better go."

They cross the river and watch from behind some trees as she comes-to slowly. Confused, exhausted, and feeling extremely vulnerable, Sakura curls into herself and surrenders to the tears she'd run from all night. They are full, body-wracking sobs heard across the river even without their heightened sense of hearing.

Loneliness and grief quiver from her with each ugly, tormented wail and it takes every ounce of Kakashi's willpower to not be drawn back towards her. The physical urge to comfort her is so strong his fists clench white at his knees. Naruto also looks away, grimacing in frustration, and pleads with his eyes for permission to go over to her, diplomacy with the Uchihas be damned.

Kakashi's teeth clench as he shakes his head. Right now, the clan was dangerous and volatile without an officially appointed leader. And with people already searching for the late Shadow's beloved, they couldn't risk further agitation.

After a few minutes, Sakura notices the salve on her feet. She inspects them almost suspiciously before wiping her face and standing up in a discretely defensive stance. Hugging herself tightly, she surveys her surroundings and spends a long time looking in the general direction of their concealed positions.

Kakashi knows she can't possibly see them, but he wraps the shadows tighter around himself anyway. He doesn't realize he's been holding his breath until she finally turns and starts the long trek back to the palace.

When they're certain she's out of range, Naruto stands and rubs at his eyes sleepily. "I know why we had to leave her _now_ ," he yawns. "But don't we want her to join us eventually?"

Kakashi stretches his arms before ambling back towards their camp; his shoulders looking more slumped than usual. "Ah."

"So why didn't we take her with us? Patch her up properly and gain her trust. It wouldn't have been a breach in conduct."

"Perhaps." The thought certainly crossed his mind. "But the timing isn't right." _Not anymore_.

Naruto's expression is sullen. He chews on the inside of his cheek and studies his mentor's back as they walk in silence. "Hey. What if we don't meet her again?"

"We will."

Blue eyes narrow. "You sound so sure."

"She's Uchiha," Kakashi replies simply, almost chuckling at the secret irony of his latest, personal revelation. How fitting it is— and strangely comforting, too —to now know the woman who'd periodically haunted his dreams for nearly two decades was also an Uchiha. After all, hadn't they been key players in almost every major event in his life thus far? "My destiny has always been to cross with theirs."

**———**

They say she changed the night she went into the storm. That rain tried to drown her and lightning struck her shattered heart, scattering its pieces throughout the land. That she'd only survived by becoming the tempest itself, her chilling howls echoing throughout the palace walls.

This is how legends are made.

In order to live, she filled the empty spaces of her heart with darkness and the shadows of her fondest memories. And every night, they say, she went out in search of the missing pieces. Longing to one day be whole again.

_Sometimes it's useful to fit the image people project on you._

Sakura hadn't understood Itachi's explanation then but she was beginning to understand it now. In a rare touch of kindness that only the Uchihas could bestow, they'd spun for her a tale that enforced near-reverence and secured her status amongst the upper echelon.

But kindness from Uchihas, she found, could cut more painfully than hate or indifference. By raising her status, they effectively distanced themselves from her. The more broken she was perceived to be, the higher she was raised in their esteem.

Over time, she became virtually untouchable. Because the truth is no one actually wants to be around broken things. Not really.

So Sakura obtained the freedom she'd always wanted.

She runs in the night because it is an integral part of her mystique and because it helps her forget. There is freedom in the darkness, a willingness to let go of one's thoughts and worries. To disappear. It is too dark for stares and the wind carries away the whispers of judgement surrounding her. When she runs fast enough, her heart soars, wild and free, and she can be alone at last.

But alone isn't actually where she wants to be. Not for long, and not when she runs as hard and as fast as she does.

The touch of darkness is soft and gentle in its caress of her. It understands the unspoken difference between her longing and her need. The evening dew becomes moist lips running along her skin and it kisses her in all the right ways that make her blood run hot and her body shiver.

On most nights the moon is her only witness. But every now and then, on nights when she is drowning in memories of him and no amount of running can save her, she senses the other. Like the morning on the river bank, she thinks she sees him— the dark silhouette of his former self. Her dark angel. The manifestation of all her yearning.

She chases it, calls after it with a shaky voice and reaches out. But no matter how fast she runs or how deep into the forest she follows it, she does not catch it. She never does.

So Sakura returns one morning, the sky still grey with pre-dawn and her heart heavy with disappointment. His visage still taunts her from every shadow and, this time, she sees it also in the cold and handsome face waiting for her.

Sasuke throws the cloak he'd been holding over her shoulders and shakes his head. "You're shivering," he scolds, but his voice is unusually gentle. "You need to stop this." Hands wraps around her abdomen and steer her towards the bedroom. "Come inside," he breathes into her ear. "It's not safe here."

_It's not safe anywhere_ , she thinks as her eyes flutter closed and she sinks into his arms. His embrace is warm and comforting and she has so little will left to push him away. The phantom chase had emotionally drained her and she is aware, just as much as he is, what it would mean if she allows him to take her back inside.

_Sasuke is not indifferent to you._

Sakura raises her eyes slowly to meet his and two obsidian orbs hold her gaze; raw with unfettered desire and a silent, tormented longing not too unlike her own.

She desperately wants to hold the darkness in her arms… to welcome it into her room, her bed, her body. But she's so tired of chasing after it.

She's also sick of being put on a pedestal.

She's sick of being alone.

"Okay."

**———**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the rating for this fic is now MATURE. Nothing too explicit (yet?) but... just wanted to be sure.

A single shinobi lies half-buried in rubble, the dust of a final and massive explosion clearing around him. He holds a hand to his head to try to lessen the ringing. It feels sticky and wet and there's a distinctly metallic scent of blood in the air. Despite the excruciating pain, a crazed laugh claws itself from his shredded lungs. To think that this would be how it ends…

The ringing subsides enough in his head to recognize the sound of footsteps approaching. The stride is confident— full of purpose. His laughter stops but a cruel smile remains twisted on his lips.

"When you announced yourself, I thought… how _convenient_ of you to deliver yourself for my vengeance." A hooded figure enters his field of vision. The irony is exquisite. " _Foolish_ , I thought. A spoiled brat playing at revenge." He tries to chuckle but coughs blood instead. "But I see now... even in death… Itachi wins."

The hooded figure stands over him in silent judgement. The backdrop of a quickly spreading fire illuminates fierce, insect-like eyes on a masked face. Twin blades glint menacingly on either side of the figure and drip with blood, but it's her immaculate gloved hands that capture his attention.

He'd been outwitted. Outclassed. He'd thought he'd been clever with his concealment of the explosives but she'd fooled him from the start— just like Itachi had all those years ago **—** and he'd only succeeded in blowing himself up. How sorely he'd underestimated her bite.

"Mantis," he purred with his final breath. "You are, _truly_ … a masterstroke… of art."

Flames rose and roared their agreement, absorbing the sound of sharpened steel as it swung down on flesh and bone.

Broken did not mean fragile. Deidara's failure to understand that had been his undoing.

As she enveloped herself in darkness and made her escape, the grief burning inside her raged hotter and louder than the fire she left behind.

_Itachi_. Speaking his name had inflicted more damage than any bomb he'd blasted her way.

Two years had passed.

Two years of loneliness, anger, and despair.

Two years of chasing shadows of him and seeking comfort in darkness until, one fateful early morning, Sasuke divulged intelligence that gave her a target for her grief and her rage.

The Akatsuki had desired Itachi's talents. So much so that when he refused, they attacked. Threatening her had forced his hand and even though it had not been their intention— as far as Sakura knew, she was the only person alive to know of his illness —use of the blood-limit ultimately killed him.

She made a silent vow then to take vengeance on each and every Akatsuki member.

_The eyes can see only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. Sometimes it's useful to fit the image people project on you. Other times it's useful to mask the parts of yourself people are not prepared to see._

Itachi had trained her secretly for years so that no one, not even Sasuke, knew the true scope of her skillset. He did it to make her strong physically and mentally, in preparation for the inevitable future where he no longer existed. He'd laid out plans and made certain choices with the intent of leaving a better future for all. But it was clear, now, that Itachi had never really been able to account for the base and highly illogical nature of human emotions.

He'd underestimated Sakura's stubbornness to cling to the past. He'd failed to foresee the depth of her grief, the strength of her rage, and the ease in which she'd give into the temptation to wield her skills not in protection but in vengeance. Her near-nightly runs became training sessions in disguise, designed to achieve and maintain her peak conditioning.

Exactly two years to the day of his death, the first body was left in a desert cave amongst the ashes of broken puppets. It took her a few more weeks to track and prepare for Deidara, but his body would soon be found in the remains of the burnt and collapsed tower.

Sakura was going to have her vengeance and no one was going to stop her.

There would be no remorse.

**———**

She returns to the palace later than expected.

It doesn't go unnoticed but a part of her no longer cares. Still high on adrenaline and an impulse to wreak more havoc, she enters the palace proper in her wild and clearly battle-worn appearance amidst stares and gasps of shock. It doesn't take her long to find Sasuke walking with his advisors.

She comes upon him like the vortex of a storm: strong, devastating, and glorious in her fury. She pierces him with a look so intense it nails him to the spot, baring her teeth and her intentions, allowing him only a gasping breath as she passes.

She knows she has him— hook, line, and sinker. He'll catch up with her sooner rather than later.

Alone in her private chambers, she strips out of her clothing and examines herself more closely in the mirror. Both arms, a large portion of her chest, and ribs are mottled in concerning shades of purple and blue. Skin burns to her lightest touch and she grimaces.

She'd avoided Deidara's final blast but only just barely. Sakura concentrates her thoughts and her energy to the bruising and caresses cooling chakra into it. Not enough to stimulate rapid healing but just enough to ease the worst of the pain. There's a strange kind of comfort in how it hurts differently from the hurt in her heart, and she wants to hold onto that sensation a little longer.

She admires how _alive_ the bruises look. How perfectly they paint her anguish across her skin.

When Sakura steps out of the shower and into her bedroom some time later, Sasuke is waiting for her. Leaning against her bedpost, there is unfettered appreciation in his gaze as she saunters over. Before he can even speak she releases her hold on the towel and lets it drop at her feet. She watches with detached amusement as he stumbles back, surprised, as if propriety was still something upheld between them.

She places a damp hand on his chest. Her skin is cool in the morning air but inside she's seething. Sasuke swallows and narrows his eyes down at her. "What's gotten into you?"

Her fingers trace down the line of his robe and tug at the belt on his waist. Teeth sink seductively into her bottom lip as her eyes meet his, wild with craving for a little more destruction. "You… if you'd like."

His handsome face hardens instantly. Teeth clench and eyes darken with fierce desire, but he holds himself still with surprising restraint. A battle between lust, intrigue, and suspicion rages within. Sasuke's lips purse into a thin line of displeasure as his gaze sweeps over the bruises she flaunts like marks of honor. Fingers skim the mottled plains of blues and purples as a fourth feeling— _concern_ —begins to win over his senses.

Sakura shudders. It's the one feeling she is least prepared for from him.

Her chin rises level with his and she forces Sasuke's gaze back up to hers. "I'm not offering again."

Hands tighten on her waist and his grip is firm, certain in their choice to lift her onto the bed.

Relief washes over her as she slides her arms around his neck and surrenders herself to bodily desire. His mouth and his hands claim every part of her eagerly, greedy in their lust. And she wants him to take her; wants him to consume her for a few desperate, needy minutes.

Because under him, her eyes glaze enough to make his dark hair seem longer; the shadowed lines under his eyes becoming sad and achingly familiar. His features blur seamlessly with the memory of another and her heart blooms. Breaks. Bleeds with yearning. _I love you,_ she confesses silently, tears streaming down her face _. I… always…_ she chokes back a sob as reality thrusts deep inside her. Not rough, but urgent. Hungry to be felt.

The dark vision hovers over her in stubborn duality; her present overlaid by her past. They bend down simultaneously to kiss her brow— the present in apology, the past in acceptance.

_I know_ , the ghost of the latter whispers. _Let go._

Muscles ripple and rise to her touch as she scratches, arches, stretches herself taught for the release— the one thing that can temporarily quench the fire raging inside her. It comes a moment later in a white-hot explosion that rocks them both and it is powerful enough to send her, mercifully, into near-dreamless slumber.

_'Do you ever not… see him? When we're…' He tore at his hair with frustration. 'Do you feel ANYTHING towards me?' His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. She stared at him, silent, as realization disfigured his expression of fleeting hope to crushing anguish. 'You said you loved me, once. I screwed that up but I… I never forgot.'_

_'We were just kids.'_

_'It's what made it true,' he chuckled bitterly. 'I missed my chance then. I won't miss it again.' He dragged in a long, shaky breath before meeting her eyes once more. 'But you need to accept that I'm not HIM. I never will be.'_

_'I know.'_

_'No,' his voice shook with a long-simmering anger and a fine layer of regret. 'You don't. Sometimes you look at me and… I've watched you two too long to know you're not actually seeing me.'_

Sakura awakes later in the day, unsurprisingly, alone in the bed.

But not, surprisingly, alone in the room.

"Does it hurt?" His voice comes soft and almost hesitant from a seat beside the bed. A fully-clothed Sasuke stares long and hard at her bruises.

She pulls the sheet over herself and sits up to glower at him. "No," she lies.

His stare darkens and tension builds in his jawline. It takes effort to not call her out, to not demand an answer he knows she'll refuse to give. His reason for staying this time, after all, was not to clash with her.

He turns his head away reluctantly and speaks towards the balcony. "Dinner. Tonight. We're hosting a delegation from Konoha."

Sakura pulls herself to the other edge of the bed and looks warily over her shoulder. "That sounds like an order."

Sasuke stands and pinches the bridge of his nose. "A request," he sighs. Why is it always like walking on glass with her? "Please, Sakura… for me." He leaves without waiting for her answer.

Only when she hears the sound of her bedroom door lock shut does Sakura let out a resigned sigh. She falls back into bed and presses both palms against her temple.

Early on in their _consummations_ she'd made the mistake of letting him kiss her. The tenderness of his lips back then had jolted her. "Don't," she'd hissed as she'd pulled away. Itachi had been soft and his younger brother looked too much like him to not make things messier than it already was.

But Sasuke is persistent. He steals a caress, a chaste kiss, a fleeting brush of her hand every chance he gets. It's just enough to remind her that, when she's ready, he can offer her so much more than brief, physical satisfaction.

She knows she's only emboldening him with every little bit she lets him get away with. She knows choosing to carry on this way— with Sasuke and with the secret evening activities **—** is selfish and dangerous and slowly eating away at her. But she can't stop herself.

One day, she's going to wear herself down enough to accept Sasuke's hand.

One day, if Sakura doesn't die in the pursuit of vengeance, she knows she'll probably have to.

**———**

Kakashi tugs uncomfortably at the collar of his robe.

The evening was going to be harder than he thought.

The last time he'd met her properly, Uchiha Sakura was a young woman very much in love. With two years and the innocence of first love gone though, the woman who emerged at Sasuke's side looked a little more mature than expected, more serious, and an ocean sadder.

Her robes flow in rich green velvet and fine black silk. A light mask embraces the top half of her face in delicate curves swirling around heavily-shadowed eyes; framing and bringing to attention the mesmerizing green irises that were her trademark. The banquet hall lights illuminate the mask and cast Sakura in an ethereal glow. Her eyes smoulder with a cold but silent fury and when she smiles, she appears a demi-goddess among mortals.

She is, without compare, the most stunning creature he's ever beheld.

Naruto whistles softly in awe. Kakashi watches as she makes her way through the customary introductions with expert gravitas and poise. Her titles may be honorary but her presence is commanding. Beside her, Sasuke is rough and unpolished in comparison.

Before he knows it she is standing before him expectantly. Kakashi's mouth goes dry.

"I believe you're acquainted with the leader of this delegation."

"Hatake Kakashi." A smile holding neither light nor sincerity forms on her lips. She raises a bejeweled hand up to him. "Lightning Wolf and Shadowmaker."

"Just Kakashi will do." He bows and presses masked lips to gems adorning a wired hand cuff. He pauses and holds on for a moment to admire the craftsmanship weaving across the back of her hand and wrist in the intricate shape of a creature both strange and familiar. "A mantis?"

Her emerald gaze flares. She pulls her hand smoothly away from him. "Keen eye, too."

Kakashi watches her throughout the dinner. He notes the way she stares off into a middle-distance when she's bored or uninterested. The way her lips purse then curl, ever so slightly, while listening to conversation. He notes that she rarely participates herself. He studies her mask and he determines that if the heavy lines around her eyes hide anything, it is the fact that she's not quite sleeping enough.

Her head snaps back at something spoken to her. For the first time, she looks caught off guard. She murmurs something before turning away and pulling a necklace from beneath her robe. Her eyes glaze and for one, pulse-stopping moment, her glamour wavers.

Kakashi's eye widens and his heart sinks.

The intelligence he'd gathered over the years were wrong _._ Insufficient and so very wrong.

**———**

Sasuke drums his fingers thoughtfully beside an empty plate, glancing at his lovely dinner companion from the corner of his eye. He's very pleased she'd accepted his dinner invitation on personal request alone. It was another small victory towards winning her over. Unfortunately, he did have other reasons for _requiring_ her presence tonight and he knew Sakura wasn't going to like it.

The trick would be in how he broached the subject.

"You never told me how you and Hatake are acquainted."

Subtlety was never one of his strengths. Sasuke knew that if he'd tried, it would only trigger her suspicions.

Without even turning to him, Sakura responds flatly. "We're not."

A dark brow rose curiously. "But you met before?"

She spares him a withering side-glance. "Just the once."

He flinches and sits back in his chair, sufficiently chastised. Sasuke didn't need to ask when that _once_ occurred. It was the one and only time he'd ever seen a Konoha shinobi with Sakura. He remembered the anger that had coursed through him at the sight of a stranger being so close to her when she was so raw and vulnerable. _How dare he_? he'd thought as he'd yanked the older man away. _How dare he offer her comfort that was rightfully mine to give?_ It made what he was going to say next taste disgusting in his mouth.

"There are some rumors I wish to confirm or dispel about him. He may have something that once belonged to our cousin."

That catches her attention. Her eyes snap back to his and he holds it seriously.

"If he does, it must be brought home."

_Home._ Sakura turns away and absently reaches for the necklace concealed beneath her robes. "Is that an order?"

Sasuke stiffens. He pretends not to notice how her eyes glaze with memory. "Still a request," he says quietly.

Visions of the man in her dreams flash in quick succession behind her eyes. She hasn't dreamt about him since Itachi's death and a part of her soul cracks and crumbles at the implication _. I think it's you. It must be you._

Her eyes suddenly grow heavy with unshed tears. She curls her fingers tighter around the ring and pushes the well of emotions back down. She'd made Itachi promise in blood not to regret making her an Uchiha and she was honoring her end by doing everything in her power to protect them and do right by them. Her family, now and always.

"Don't you have people for this kind of thing?" she asks, her voice hardening to the professional.

He tries to tuck a loose strand of her hair but she subtly and smoothly leans away from his touch. "I do," he concedes, his voice lowering to a whisper, "but he seems to already have a vested interest in you."

Her gaze follows his to the silver-haired shinobi and she feels Sasuke lean towards her, lips smiling against her ear. "He's barely taken his eyes off you all evening."

Gunmetal grey rise instinctively to meet her stare and she looks away. "Eye," Sakura corrects under her breath. After a second, she turns back to regard the Lightning Wolf again. Her face remains neutral even as he raises a glass to her. When she speaks again, her tone is calculated in its acceptance. "How important is it?" _How far do I go?_

Relief momentarily softens Sasuke's expression before his face darkens and sours. The corner of his lips twitch involuntarily. "Very." _As far as it takes._

"What about the treaty with Konoha?"

"Protection only applies while they're welcomed guests."

Sakura straightens and clenches her fists white in her lap. This was not a clean request. She pushes herself up from her chair and doesn't even bother to excuse herself as she steps out of the hall.

"Happy hunting," Sasuke calls after her, the chill lingering long after her wake.

**———**

On evenings when she finds herself incapable of running due to physical weakness, crippling sorrow, or royal obligations, Sakura often seeks solace in the palace garden. There are many ghosts of him still here and tonight, she chooses to reminisce on the pavilion by the lake. The moon hangs low and bright here, like many fond nights that came before, and when she shuts her eyes the cool breeze reminds her of his gentle caress.

_There will be others; spies and those who wish me harm. Be wary, the two are not the same._

The forest beckons her but she resists the tug on her heart for now. There is someone else she must meet tonight and she wonders idly if Itachi's past warning still applies.

It only takes a few breaths before she feels a presence enter her solitude. _Too easy_ , she thinks, as she lets out a disappointed sigh. "You shouldn't be here."

"My apologies." There's a soft rustle of clothing moving closer. "I saw you walk out and… I was concerned. I came to check if you were all right."

Parallels with their first-ever conversation are drawn in her mind. A small smile forms on her lips. "Come to see with your own eyes?"

Sakura opens hers and turns to find the Lightning Wolf looking at her, his gaze intent. He leans against a pavilion column, robes pulled back at the waist to shove both hands into pants pockets. Despite the casual pose, he looks awkward and uncertain.

"Ah."

The acknowledgement is barely a word, just a low vibration in his chest. Sakura's smile grows and something light and warm and playful triggers inside her. The night was still young. Why not have a little fun with him? She gets up and begins to tug at her outer robe.

Kakashi straightens in alarm. Her outer robe slides to the floor in a heavy heap and she begins to loosen the second layer without missing a beat. "Do you, ah— " he gulps as another layer falls to the floor. "Do you wish to be alone?"

Now free of her bindings with only a light silk under-robe between her and the night, Sakura shoots him an amused look. "Do you wish to leave?"

He swallows dryly. "No."

"Then don't worry," she teases as she pulls the shoes off her feet. "I won't bite."

Sakura leaps onto the lake and her bare feet slide over the surface as if she's skating. Her chakra control is so smooth that only the smallest ripple of contact from her robe glides over the water's surface. "But I won't be easy, either."

Kakashi fumbles with his own formal robes, stripping down to just a sleeved shirt and pants, and chases after her.

He races to be like another shadow in her wake. She is remarkably fast and agile and he's glad he lost the extra formal layers to pursue her.

He follows her across the lake and through the trees, over a stone wall and to open fields beyond.

Here, the evening sky is alight with stars and the moon illuminates the fields as bright as daylight.

In the unnatural brightness he catches up with her, standing atop a hill, gazing up with a dreamy and haunted expression. The slightest of smiles curls on her lips and her face, still masked, is flush with exhilaration.

Moonbeams draw him to her like invisible string. In this moment, he finds her impossibly alluring.

The field rustles quietly in the breeze, just like in the dreams Sakura used to have, and even though she's passed this place a thousand times before, it strikes her suddenly how surreal the landscape is by moonlight. Tonight, of all nights.

Sakura turns to watch Kakashi approach and for the briefest of moments, she is struck by how surreal he looks, too.

Fate squeezes her heart into recognition and her breath cuts short. Perhaps, maybe, there is another reason for her runaway nostalgia today.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" The stars in her eyes glisten with cautious hope.

Kakashi stops, instinctively, at a safe distance. He thinks deeply and stares at her masked face for a long moment. "No," he replies honestly. While he did believe destiny interwove certain lives with purpose, like his to hers, he didn't believe it could ever be strong enough to bind souls. "I can't believe anything could be so certain," he explains softly, eyeing her with a hopeless kind of longing. "Least of all _love_."

Love, after all, was for lovers, and Kakashi would always be a soldier. He wasn't fool enough to believe himself capable of such deep affection. Not now, when his life was already a patchwork of missed opportunities, broken promises, and regret. His heart had broken, healed, shattered again and again and again before Sakura even learnt to crawl.

No, he was too old and too broken now to be cut out for something as fanciful as love.

The woman in his dream— the breathtaking woman Sakura had become, standing before him —was the harbinger of Fate coming at last to collect her due. He accepted this.

But belief and hope were two very different things. He wondered if she could someday see the difference. Selfishly, silently, he hoped she would.

A cloud passes overhead and the light that had glimmered in her eyes fade with the moonlight. Sakura nods slowly and a heavy sadness weighs down her shoulders.

Kakashi's fists clench at his sides as he allows a cold emptiness to fill the dark space between them.

He watches as the emotional distance becomes vast and seemingly unconquerable.

It was better this way.

They continue together in silence, immersed in private thoughts and feelings of disappointment, until they find themselves walking towards the delegation's lodgings.

Sakura glances at his masked face and tries to picture, for the first time, the famed shinobi without it. It's been close to impossible to read him. "You must be great at cards," she remarks casually.

His single visible eye squints up. "Terrible, actually."

She stops and stares at him in question.

Kakashi huffs a short laugh, relieved by the silence-breaking comment, and turns his full face towards her. Even though his left eye and mouth are completely hidden, she swears the fabric shifts just enough for her to see him WINK beneath it all.

Her mouth gapes. The absurdity of it makes her burst out laughing.

_Good_ , he thinks, as he relaxes a little. Her laughter sounds genuine. He looks at her and it's as if he's looking at the real Sakura for the first time that evening.

Without a word, he takes the lead and lets her into his apartment.

He watches her walk slowly across the small studio and stop in front of the bed, considering it. "Would you like something to drink?" he asks politely.

She turns and her masked face gleams. She licks her lower lip and she appears to transform, suddenly, into something altogether different. Dangerous. _Sensual._ "No."

His breath visibly catches in his throat as she prowls towards him like a predator with cornered prey. Green eyes burn with a quiet ferocity as she lifts a hand slowly to cup his face.

He catches her wrist before she can touch him. He looks… _upset_ somehow. "Stop."

Sakura tips her head curiously. "Why?" She knows the look of a man who desires her. She hasn't read _that_ part of his body language wrong.

"This isn't you." But the wildness in his eye and the roughness in his voice betray his resolve.

Sakura pulls her hand away and steps back. "You don't know me."

Kakashi may be bad at cards but he's not bad at all games. He knows when he's being played. "No. But I knew Itachi."

To his surprise, she laughs. It's dark and bitter and nothing like the laughter he'd heard earlier. "You knew what he wanted you to think of him. He wore masks to fit the roles he needed to play, just like you. Just like me. Just like now."

"And what are you playing," he asks slowly, "right now?"

She lifts her chin daringly. "You tell me."

He takes his time sizing her up. _Seductress_ comes first to mind, but then he remembers the look she gave him when she asked about soulmates and the motivations didn't add up. Something more was at stake, something he's only glimpsed briefly beneath her mask. "Intrigue," he says at length. "But I don't know why."

The smile Sakura gives is neither soft nor gracious. She returns to the bed and slowly runs a hand over the sheets. "What if I said I wanted to see the face behind your mask?" A wistful look settles on her face as she sits on the edge and stares at her palm splayed over silk. "What if I said I'm curious? That I think I could… _feel_ something with you."

Kakashi feels the draw of the truth and the deep sadness in her words but holds himself wary. He tells himself they aren't answers. They're words purposely chosen to lure him closer.

He sits on the bed across from her and lays down on his back. Despite the warning signals blaring in the back of his mind, he closes his eye and tries to relax.

"What are you doing?"

"You want to feel something with me," he murmurs softly and takes a deep breath. "This is it."

She frowns down at him. "This?"

He tilts his head up to meet her eyes and his gaze is steady, sincere. "Safe. Whatever role you feel you need to play, now or in the future, I promise you'll be safe with me."

His answer throws her off guard. Her gaze falters. "So you'd trust me… just like that?"

"I didn't say trust."

His voice lowers to a rumble and it's mesmerizing.

"You can't offer safety without trust."

A silver brow rises subtly in challenge. "So you would betray me?"

The calm intensity in which he delivers his question gives her chills. Sakura feels her pulse quicken.

"It would be stupid easy," she admits boldly and with matching intensity. "What could you possibly gain?"

Kakashi's masked face moves in what she interprets as a knowing smile. "Your trust. Hopefully."

She couldn't help but laugh. He was clever, she'd give him that. "I make no promise in return."

"That's fine," he shrugs and closes his eye again. "Mine is unconditional. What you do with it is your choice."

Sakura stares at his resting and seemingly unguarded form. The Wolf was renowned for tactical brilliance but this… if this was some kind of counter-play, it baffled her.

A brief image of Kakashi approaching her in the fields momentarily flashes behind her eyes. Sakura had never met a man that confused her so much. For a moment back then, she'd almost believed Itachi had been right in claiming her soulmate was someone else. Kakashi's eye and clothing were wrong and he'd been so dismissive of soulmates in his response, but he'd looked right at her with such intimate familiarity as he spoke that she'd definitely felt _something._

Something she hadn't felt in a long time. She hadn't been lying when she said she was curious to feel more.

Some time passes in a not-entirely-uncomfortable silence before she decides to test his promise.

She places both hands on either side of his head and leans over him. It would be so easy to pull his mask now… or other things. She chews her bottom lip and waits until his one visible eye partially opens. "I was told you have something of ours. I want to see it."

"Oh?" Kakashi yawns, having slowly been drifting off to sleep. He hadn't intended to be so unguarded around her but then, there she was, hovering over him within kissing distance. He stares at her now-swollen lips and wonders how they might taste against his. "What?"

Said lips pursed into a grim line as she sits up and puts distance between them again. Sasuke didn't exactly give her a lot to go on. "Something that belonged to an Uchiha cousin. Someone you've probably worked with in the past."

"Hmm," Kakashi scratches his jaw thoughtfully and yawns again. Longer, this time, as he seems to sink further into the sheets. "My memory is pretty hazy right now. Can you ask me again tomorrow?"

Sakura's face scrunches with displeasure. "Your delegation leaves tomorrow."

He rolls onto his stomach and his eye widens in clearly feigned surprise (he really _would_ be awful at cards) before squinting up in what she was fast learning was a smile. The kind of smile that vexed. "Why don't you join us for a few days?"

She visibly ruffles before pushing up from the bed to more effectively glare down at him.

A promise was a promise and Kakashi was making it so very, ridiculously, easy for her to pursue her agenda. Sakura hated how dirty it made her feel, but being invited saved her a lot of trouble trying to 'accidentally' catch up with him later with an excuse that would carry on the deception. Besides, there were some very personal advantages to being officially granted permission to be away from the palace for a few nights.

_Hunting_ advantages.

She stalks towards the door and stops long enough to look back over her shoulder. "Alright. I'll make the arrangements."

In the half-second it takes Kakashi to push himself up from the bed, surprised by her quick and easy acceptance, Sakura is gone.

**———**


	7. Chapter 7

The dream begins with the hunt— his nose filled with her scent, heart racing with exhilaration, his silver-white mane glistening with evening dew.

He is a great white wolf impelled by the primal thrill of a chase. The howl of a packmate cuts the night air and he joins immediately in answer, pushing himself harder, faster. _I am coming_. Mighty paws crush the undergrowth as he leaps to higher ground. Here, on a moonlit sea of rolling treetops, the scent of his game is stronger.

Other scents also assault his nostrils— Steel. Blood. Fire. The sound of clashing metal, explosions, and human suffering pierce his ears and a chill run downs his spine. A dark pillar of smoke rises over the treeline and it doesn't surprise him in the least that she is leading him there.

To battle.

To his Fate.

A mighty howl surges from his lungs to herald his arrival, but there is no response.

He must face her alone.

**———**

Something the size of a football explodes beside his head and wakes Kakashi with a start. Shouts of laughter erupt from nearby children as they rush off with said ball kicked amongst them.

Ears ringing, he pushes himself up to a sitting position and slowly shakes his head. A familiar migraine rises behind his eyes and he grimaces. Feeling more tired than when he'd fallen asleep, Kakashi presses a clenched fist to his temple. The pressure is welcome, anchoring, and allows him something to focus on as he rides out the ripples of pain and nausea behind his eyes.

"I half expected you to fall out."

Kakashi glances down and his eye is captured in a verdant gaze. Standing at the base of the tree— unmasked, unguarded, and dressed in simple linens —he almost doesn't recognize Sakura in the daylight.

"Do you often take naps in other people's gardens?" Her brows rise quizzically. A soft, easy smile curling her lips.

Still feeling dazed and disoriented, Kakashi shakes his head. He swings his legs over the branch edge and takes a moment to mentally gather and compose himself. _Be calm,_ he thinks as he once again meets her watchful and disarming gaze.

Putting on his usual, eye-crinkling smile, he takes a deep breath and cocks his head to a playful tilt. "The view is lovely from here," he starts cheerily. "If I fell, would you have caught me?"

Her laughter is light and melodic. She shakes her head and gestures him down. "You are early, Hatake-san. I still have some important matters to attend to before we leave."

"Kakashi, please," he says as he drops effortlessly down beside her with a duffel bag in one arm. He gives her a bow before taking a respectful step back. "And I intend to wait on you as long as you need."

They regard each other for another moment, smiles lingering, as he suppresses a feeling of disquiet in his heart.

Last night, there had been an odd, forced kind of bluntness to the way she'd demanded to know what he possessed that once belonged to an Uchiha. Despite his weak response, she readily accepted his terms of travel in pursuit of the answer.

She was on a mission, that much was obvious. He was on one too, and the thought of them clashing prevented him from getting much sleep that night. What would she do when she got her answer? What would _he_ do?

An image of the woman in his dreams, face smeared in dried blood and so remarkably similar to Sakura's, flashes in his mind. Fate would have her way in the end. Fate _always_ did.

Oblivious to the doubts plaguing his mind, Sakura gives him a grin and a slight nod before joining the children on the playing field. Dark, mahogany-tinted hair bounces loosely on her shoulders as she dances and twirls gracefully around little hands and little feet. A few nurses stand nearby, watching and smiling and carrying smaller children as the group plays.

Kakashi slings his bag over his shoulder and retreats to the opposite and less visible end of the field. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans casually in observation. Green eyes and a bright smile flash briefly in his direction, acknowledging his new location, before resuming the game.

It's difficult for him to comprehend this woman as the same glamorous dinner host from last night, whose elegant indifference masked a still-mourning heart. Who'd led him on a moonlit chase, stared at him with breathtakingly haunting eyes, and asked him if he believed in love and destiny.

It's difficult for him to comprehend her as the same woman who'd tried to seduce him in his apartment, like the dark and fatal woman in his dreams, reaching out to him with the promise of his destruction.

_What if I said I'm curious? That I think I could… feel something with you._

Kakashi inhales sharply and shuts his eye.

The game ends a few minutes later in a cacophony of squeals. Sakura congratulates the victorious children before excusing herself to speak with the nurses. The little ones they hold coo and reach out for her, and Sakura reciprocates with adoring kisses and sweet words. She takes one of the smaller infants from a nurse— no longer a newborn, but not yet a toddler —and bounces the child in her arms as she converses with the adults.

When the clock bell chimes noon, the group disperses to gather the children indoors. Then and only then does Kakashi feel comfortable enough to approach.

Sakura's face is glowing with a healthy flush of activity. "Our next generation," she tells him. She kisses the infant in her arms and gives an affectionate snuggle before passing the little one back to the waiting nurse. Another caretaker hands a rucksack to Sakura and, after a final wave to the children, she slings the pack over her shoulder and turns towards the palace gates.

Kakashi quietly falls in step beside her. Being close to her makes his skin prickle with warning, excitement, and intrigue.

"I've made it my mission to make sure they all grow up feeling healthy. Happy. Loved."

He nods. That much of his intel concurred: Sakura regularly spent her days with children and gave extra attention to the orphans.

"He always went out of his way to take care of others. I've vowed to do the same."

He glances sideways at her and sees a small, sad smile touch her lips. The glaze in her eyes leaves no doubt to whom _he_ is. "It's admirable work," he says wholeheartedly.

They continue in companionable silence to the front gates. Sakura stops and he stops alongside her. She gives him another fleeting, delicate smile and turns her gaze back in the direction they came. "I haven't been away from the palace for more than a night in _ages_ ," she confesses and takes a deep breath. Her eyes widen a little and a genuinely nervous chuckle escapes her lips. "I guess this is what separation anxiety feels like."

"The camp isn't far," he assures her. At a casual walk, they would reach it by sunset. Sooner, if they ran. His eye crinkles in an encouraging smile and he starts out onto the road.

After a few lingering seconds, she joins him.

Sakura falls in step beside him, fingers looped casually on each strap of her rucksack, and her head tilts upwards to bask in the afternoon sun. He glances down at her again and, for the briefest of moments, he sees in her what Gai would've described as _the blossom of youth_ — so alive, so hopeful, brimming with enthusiasm and potential.

It strikes him then how very _young_ she actually is. Until now, he'd only ever seen her at night: illuminated by moonlight, ethereal and ageless, her eyes boring into him with experience well beyond her perceived years. But in the honest light of day, fresh-faced but still effortlessly enchanting, he is reminded of the fact that she's only a little more than two decades old, more Naruto's peer than his own.

His heart sinks to the pit of an already uneasy stomach. His feet grow heavy and scrape along the dirt path. She walks a few steps ahead of him and twirls gracefully on her heel to face him.

Green eyes study his sullen expression curiously as she keeps a pace ahead of him. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. Dull thoughts of an old man."

"Where's the rest of your group?"

"They went ahead."

"Oh." She watches him press a palm to his covered eye, then push it up and through his hair.

The silver-white mess on his head shimmers softly in the sunlight. "There are a few things we should probably discuss."

"Just a few?" She teases.

He shrugs as Sakura slides back to walking beside him.

Some minutes pass.

Kakashi clears his throat, stretches both his arms up and folds them behind his head.

Sakura allows one more minute to slip by before turning a quizzical glance at him. She might as well get things rolling… "Did you sleep well?"

The question jolts him. He blinks. "Yes. Thank you."

_SO distracted,_ she thinks, as she watches him rub the side of his covered eye with his knuckles. Again. "Does it often bother you during the day?"

"What?"

She steps ahead of him again and stares at him critically. "Your left eye. Do you cover it because it's sensitive to light? Do you often get headaches?" She appraises his face and the slight tilt of his head. Such problems were common amongst Uchihas— and presumably, any shinobi with an optic-based bloodline limit. She recognizes the signs. "I'm trained as a medic. I can take a look if you'd like."

A noncommittal sigh escapes his lips. "I know."

Sakura holds a hand up and stops walking. He walks right into it and she presses her palm firmly against his chest. She searches his face with clinical wonder. "Let me take a look at it. Please."

The hair on the back of Kakashi's neck prickles again. For a moment, his one visible eye narrows on her. Then he brings a hand slowly over the masked side of his face. "Ah. Thank you, but _no_. I'm… actually quite shy about it."

"Oh."

Her hand falls away from him as she takes a respectful step back. Kakashi also drops his hand but can't help noticing how her face flushes with embarrassment. His own cheeks warm softly. "Though if this date goes well, perhaps someday we could both be comfortable enough to remove our masks."

"Date?" she scoffs, turning on her heel and walking ahead. "You call _this_ a date?"

Kakashi shrugs and follows after her, though at a more leisurely pace. "Last night I invited you out. You agreed. And here we are."

"That doesn't—!" Sakura crosses her arms over her chest and huffs in exasperation. "Fine," she relents with a roll of her eyes. "You MAY call it a date, but only if it means we start getting to know each other better." She waits for him to catch up and tugs on his sleeve. "So tell me— why the mask?"

He rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment before striking a pose that could either be surprisingly dashing or outrageously comical. "To better show my good side?"

Her eyes widen with disbelief before she bursts into a fit of genuine laughter. "That's terrible!"

"Is it?" he pouts, shoulders sagging with feigned disappointment and a gentle twinkle in his eye. "But it made you laugh, so I have no regrets."

Sakura averts her gaze and her smile turns shy at the compliment.

Kakashi coughs and clears his throat. "Now, permit me to ask… why NOT a mask?"

"What? You mean right now?" The smile fades from her lips as he nods in confirmation. Sakura lowers her eyes. "I didn't think I needed it," she answers with a touch of coldness. When she meets his eye again, the look she gives him is sincere but daring."Was I wrong?"

Kakashi swallows. "No."

She offers a soft smile in relief and another long moment passes in amicable silence. "So… why _did_ you invite me out?"

He rubs his jaw for a moment before his keen eye lines again with casual humor. "I thought I'd try my luck."

"With me?"

His eye gleams. "With Fate."

"Well," she chuckles and relaxes a little. "I can't say I haven't thought the same."

The further they get from the palace, the further Sakura feels from reality. As if, through his quiet and easy companionship, she can truly believe it possible to release some of the burden in her chest.

Another long silence passes between them before Kakashi turns to face her. Though his expression is kind and honest, his tone is surprisingly sombre. "You have an objective, Uchiha-sama, and so do I."

And just like that, the weight settles heavily again in her chest. Sakura's lips purse into a grim line and she nods in careful acknowledgement. Now would be the time to push him about the mysterious Uchiha relic Sasuke wants her to retrieve. He's practically invited her to ask about it. Sakura knows this, but the words stick in her throat. They'd only just left, after all. Why rush things when his company granted her several days’ clearance from Sasuke's ever-watchful gaze?

Beside her, Kakashi tilts his head up to admire the blue, cloudless sky. A single crow circles lazily overhead.

The Leaf shinobi scratches the back of his head, lets out a long sigh, and finally gives voice to the words he'd been mulling over all day. "I promised Itachi I'd watch over you."

Sakura stares at him for a long moment before stopping and facing him fully. Though he'd sounded calm when he spoke, the rigidness of Kakashi's posture and inability to meet her gaze betrays him. Unconsciously, she draws her hands close to her chest. "What?"

"I should've been there for you. More. It would've been difficult but I could've done it." He forces himself to stand before her, shoulders hung in resignation. "But I didn't want to force anything, least of all on you, and… I'm sorry."

The sunlight filtered through the trees creates shadows across Sakura's face, masking her gentler features with harder angles. "What?" she repeats, but warier.

Kakashi's gaze remains steady and sad. "When we last met, it was Itachi's intention for you to come with me."

A strong gust of wind shakes the forest canopy. Tree branches rattle as they stretch and cast long shadows over them both.

Kakashi musters the courage to look into her eyes and is unsurprised to find them smoldering with anger and distrust.

"Before or after he died?" she asks, just over a whisper but so cold it chills the air between them.

His gaze falters for a moment but it is enough. The confirmation ignites rage behind narrowed, green eyes.

"And I was… what? Just supposed to _leave_ him?!"

Kakashi flinches. He forces himself to meet her glowering gaze. " _For_ him. Because he believed…" his voice trails as he remembers the Uchiha Shadow's smile the first time he'd told him about her. The way the smile lingered as he spoke, his usually soft voice rich with reverence and pride. "… he believed you were destined for more."

Sakura's hands drop to her sides and clench into fists. Of course Itachi did. But that didn't make it any more right. "So, what? You both figured out my destiny?" Hurt and anger crack her voice. "Figured _you_ could be my destiny?"

"No," he responds firmly, his expression gloomy but determined _._ "To understand your future you should understand your past. Itachi identified someone who could shed light on your background. I tracked her but..." His whole body sags suddenly, even more than could be deemed physically possible, beneath the immense weight of his shame. "But she didn't want to be found. I put the search on hold and Itachi..." he gulps, unable to finish the sentence.

Sakura reels and staggers back a step. She blinks, rapidly, several times. "My background?"

"Possibly. Yes," he clarifies, his tone even gentler now. "It took a long time. Too long, but…" he swallows, again, and tentatively offers her his hand, "we can meet her tonight, if you want."

Now she's genuinely taken aback. "You found her?"

"Ah."

Her head spins with this new information and her heart crashes against her chest. Numbly, she accepts his hand and allows him to lead her back onto the path. His grasp is firm and radiates warmth. When she manages to keep the pace beside him, he lets it drop back to his side.

It takes Sakura some time to gather herself and form something resembling coherent thought. Unconsciously, she touches the necklace hidden beneath her shirt. "Tell me how you knew him," she blurts out, sounding more like an order than a request. "Tell me how he... intended this to be."

Kakashi glances down at her and his face softens in agreement. "All right."

As they continue through the forest, he talks about the circumstances in which Itachi was first recruited. How they'd first met as a mentor and trainee, then became acquainted as captain and ANBU.

Over the next few hours he recounts training sessions, correspondences, and quiet evenings spent before missions together. He never goes into detail about the missions themselves, but gives away enough for Sakura to determine they were of a very dangerous and a very covert nature.

Throughout it all his voice is calm, level, and soothing. Sakura hugs herself tightly, one hand gripping her opposite shoulder, and looks away as if admiring the late afternoon sun. She is struck by how kind and warm his words are for Itachi— how they not only affirm but breathe life into the memory of a man she still guards close to her heart. 

Slowly, through his account, she fills the gaps in her timeline when Itachi would simply 'vanish' or 'be away' from the palace. And, just as slowly, she begins to grasp how much of their life together the Lightning Wolf was privy too.

Kakashi's voice trails when he realizes he's been walking alone. Confused, he looks back to find Sakura standing and staring at him a few paces back. "Something wrong?"

With her feet firmly planted on the ground, she cocks her head and regards him carefully. "He... told you about me, didn't he? Not just about where I was found, but my abilities and education and..." she hesitates and chews on her bottom lip. "My dreams. Did he tell them to you, too?"

Dreams of soulmates and destiny didn't happen to everyone. It was generally taboo to talk about them, as to do so was considered a direct challenge against Fate. Sakura was very young and hadn't known any better when she'd first told Itachi. As if her natural hair color hadn't marked her out enough. But he'd kept her secret and kept her safe all these years. Would he have justified revealing her dreams to this man if he believed it would help uncover her past?

It terrifies and upsets Sakura to think someone besides Itachi could know her most intimate of secrets.

Kakashi sees the way her hands tremble and lowers his gaze. "No. No details. Only that you had them."

She closes the distance between them, her eyes wide and watchful. "So last night when I asked you about soulmates..."

"I don't believe. No," he repeats firmly. His brow rises and a look she's never seen before crosses his face. "But it doesn't mean I never wanted to."

Sakura stops just an arm's length away from him and stares, long and hard. His masked face lifts in a gentle smile of reassurance but she can see it now— the sadness and the pain he thinks he's hiding. The tense disappointment in his jawline and the hopelessness in his eye.

She recalls then the other answer he gave her the night before: _I can't believe anything could be so certain. Least of all, love._

Watching him absently rub his chest with his palm, Sakura thinks she can understand now what Itachi had intended with him. Inside, he too guarded a deep heartache— of loss and regret wrapped thick around a tender heart. But within the Lightning Wolf there was also an echo of hope. A muted longing for connection and something to believe in once more.

Sakura exhales slowly, releasing some of her anger and some of her fear. She could work with this.

A gentle smile warms her face as she offers a hand out to him in peace. "In that case, Hatake Kakashi, I think I _would_ like to get to know you better."

As Itachi had intended.

As Sasuke required.

And as she…

As she…

"KAKASHI-SENSEI!"

Both turn to see a loud, young blonde sprint down the path to meet them. His smile positively radiates as he gestures excitedly for them to hurry along.

"C'mon! C'mon! Obaachan arrived _hours_ ago!"

**———**

Sakura is ushered, alone, into the largest tent-like structure in the encampment. The inside is crammed with camp equipment and supplies, and a makeshift office table had been cleared beside a small furnace. Standing before the sole-source of heat, back turned to the opening from which Sakura enters, is a woman with long blonde hair. Curiously, the kanji for "gamble" is etched onto the back of her robe.

Sakura's eyes narrow. _This_ isKonoha's proclaimed greatest shinobi? She suspends her disbelief and bows. "Lady Tsunade."

The woman turns and, though Sakura can't quite place how, the room crackles with energy. There is something electric about the power emanating from the Hokage and the sensation gives Sakura goosebumps.

For her part, the older woman merely gives her a lukewarm appraisal. "So," she starts coolly and with a much older-sounding voice than her appearance would suggest. "You're what all the fuss is about."

She moves to sit behind the desk and gestures for Sakura to take the opposite chair facing her. Almond-shaped eyes watch her keenly as she takes the seat.

Upon her forehead, a small violet crystal glistens in the reflected light of the furnace. It is hard for Sakura to _not_ stare at it, and when she realizes Tsunade noticing the direction of her gaze, she quickly looks away in embarrassment.

A chuckle fills the air between them and the Hokage's eyes lighten to warm amber. "If the Uchiha Shadow had wanted me to teach you so badly, he should've sent you directly and not the Shadowmaker." She shakes her head and something that sounds akin to regret fills her voice. "So many years… such a pity."

Sakura's eyes widen with surprise. So the Hokage was also— "You're the one I was meant to meet?"

The woman's vibrant gaze darkens, this time, to burnt gold.

"Are... are we related?"

Tsunade taps her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Distantly, perhaps. But it doesn't matter. We are kin by something stronger than blood."

"So... we aren't?"

The Hokage chuckles again. "My dear girl, what you sense is the ichor in my veins. I know because you have it, too."

"Ichor?" Sakura frowns.

Tsunade leans forward and her eyes glow with certainty. "The 'blood of gods', as history calls it." She props an arm on the table and rests her head on her open palm. "The chakra you gave Itachi, what color was it?"

The memory of his Susanoo rising over the treetops in majestic red and gold flashes briefly in her mind. Sakura swallows as the relevance hits her. "Red and gold," she admits carefully, but something doesn't quite add up. "My own chakra though is—"

" _I think_ , at some point, you realized it wasn't enough to give him just part of your chakra," the Hokage muses out loud. "So somehow, without using a visible seal, you started to store large quantities outside of your normal circulation." Her eyes narrow suspiciously on Sakura's forehead. "But where?"

Annoyance flares briefly behind green eyes as she clenches her fists in her lap. "I imagine a large jar and I fill it."

"Just like that?" A blonde brow arches curiously. "And is it filled now?"

"No." It's a lie, but Sakura figures the Hokage wouldn't have asked if she didn't already suspect. The truth was that Itachi had coached her into discovering the most effective means to store her chakra. She barely even thought about it anymore— it was just there, for whenever she needed it.

Sensing her ire, Tsunade withdraws back into her seat and raises her hands in apology. "Siphoning chakra from your system, cutting it off from you and transforming it into something that can be given to others, is what turns it gold," she explains. "But permit an old lady one last question: how often did you give him this stored chakra?"

Sakura grits her teeth, feeling unhappy about the response she must give but seeing no other way to achieve the answers she'd been seeking all her life. "In the last year… every day."

Tsunade nods, closes her eyes, and broods with her fingers pressed to her lips for a long time. What feels like hours but might have only been minutes pass as the room darkens with the setting sun.

"First, let me apologize, Sakura. I truly thought I was the last," her voice is low and even as she speaks, her eyes still shut to block out painful memories. "I truly _hoped_ I'd be the last."

"There have only been a handful of us that exist at the same time. Wars have been waged for us and wars have been won with us. I thought the last shinobi war finally wiped our kind from existence, but you... you are the first I've sensed in decades."

"You speak as if we're not human."

The Hokage smiles faintly. "And have you ever felt _normal_?"

Sakura glares. She's certain the older woman just glanced at her hairline.

Tsunade continues, "Throughout history, we are known as 'vessels with the strength of hundreds'. Those desiring power and those who wished to maintain it actively sought us out. Unfortunately, this means we've been pursued for evil purposes more often than good."

The Hokage pauses and her eyes glaze with untold memories. Her countenance flickers and, for just a second, Sakura sees her true face, weathered equally by grief and time. "Though I don't believe he was entirely unselfish with his intentions, it was wise of Itachi to have concealed you so closely. And fortunate."

Amber eyes focus once more on her with an intensity that makes Sakura's heart race. "I knew he was ill, but I didn't know about you. Believe me when I say things would've been different if I had."

"How?" How could she have known? His illness was a secret Itachi had taken to his grave.

A small, sad smile forms once more on her lips. "The 'gold' we carry is a source of power and of healing. I have been sought many times for one. Rarely, the other. Itachi's behaviour may have been suspicious, but he never struck me as the power-hungry type."

_So much of my life is set for me. Preordained and fixed with inevitability._

_But you were my one surprise._

Sakura closes her eyes; tries to restrain the feelings attached to the memories.

"He probably only lived as long as he did because of you."

_And I made choices… choices I wouldn't have seen otherwise… to be here, still, with you._

Kind eyes watch as a tear streaks silently down Sakura's cheek. "To have been found by someone like him was incredibly lucky. To be adored, a gift from the gods. Our abilities come naturally but they can be rough and unpolished. Looking at you, I can see there isn't much left I can teach you. Itachi seems to have taken great care in shaping your potential. Polishing you until you became, in the end, his very _life s—_ "

"STOP!" Sakura's fists slam on the table and it splinters into a thousand pieces. She stands abruptly, a well of tears flooding her vision. She stalks towards the exit and two ANBU guards materialize at the tent opening.

Tsunade waves them back. "Sakura, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She wipes at her eyes with the back of her arm and glances over her shoulder. "In the end…" Sakura clarifies, voice breaking with emotion, "it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."

She pushes past the guards and disappears into the night.

**———**

There are people who leave a mark. Who are as much a part of you as your soul. Not quite your soulmate, but occupying a part of you that runs just as deep and, sometimes, even deeper still. When such a person is torn away as suddenly as Itachi was, the part he once occupied never stops bleeding. Never truly heals. The ache gradually becomes less visible but it stays raw, throbbing with grief and a quiet malice.

Because sometimes, pain is the only thing left connecting us to what was lost.

Tonight, as she dashes from the encampment, that part of Sakura’s soul is screaming. It howls like a whirlwind and surrounds itself in dark storm clouds charged with rage. It carries the rest of her, kicking and pleading, to the burning edge of an abyss. It dares her to fall.

She climbs the forest canopy and sprints across a moonlit sea of rolling treetops. Her eyes scan the horizon and it doesn't take her long to spot them— circling low over a clearing, a murder of crows.

_Her_ crows. Bonded to her on the same day as Itachi.

She lands in the clearing guarded by them and pulls a long canvas bag from a carefully concealed, chakra-sealed location in the ground.

Two larger crows perch on a branch above Sakura as she yanks her clothes off and changes quickly into dark fatigues and light armor. One makes a harsh, criticizing sound in her direction.

"It's NOT too soon. I'm ready."

The second voices a similar, high-pitched screech of concern.

Sakura pauses and shoots them both a cold glare. " _Now_ you're telling me it's dangerous?" So what if it was a little selfish and a lot reckless? No one else suffered the way her soul screamed inside, demanding vengeance. She slides one blade and then the other into their sheaths across her back. "I'll be fine," she says dismissively.

Both crows caw unhappily and bristle their feathers.

"Then keep them off my trail," she snaps as she places the final piece of her outfit onto her face. Having no choice but to accept her orders, the crows launch back into the air and regroup with the others.

How many nights had she already spent courting death? What was one more if it could quiet some of the pain?

A smaller crow swoops down beside her with a single red eye gleaming from its head.

"Show me," she commands.

The bird caws and takes off in the opposite direction of the encampment.

**———**

A large shark of a man kneels by the stream's edge to wash the blood of his dinner from his hands. A dark shape passes discretely over his head and his blue skin tingles. He chuckles when, a few seconds later, the same dark figure emerges from the forest to stand across the water from him. "I was wondering when it would be my turn."

He rises to his feet, a razor-sharp smile on his face, and assesses his foe: hooded. Masked. Clad in black and a dark, camouflage green. Less than half his size and distinctly feminine in shape. The moonlight reflects from the stream and gives the large, emerald eyes of her mask a supernatural glow.

"Mantis," he barks as a blade emerges from her back, gleaming. "I recognize you."

She readies herself, draws her second blade, and points them both at the shark man. Their fine edges illuminating with a cold sheen.

Kisame laughs. There is nothing he fears from this tiny threat. He draws his own large, toothy sword from his back and it bristles viciously.

"The precious _vessel_. So good to finally meet you."

The air sings and sparks as she takes a series of lightning-quick slashes at him. Her movements are economic and nimble but in his hands, the monster sword effectively parries her attack. Its mouth opens to lick jagged lips and its quills quiver with interest. The sound it produces is eerie and menacing.

Kisame roars with amusement. "Samehada says it wants to taste you, little bug. Says you smell delicious."

Mantis' blades cut through the air again, swifter and deadlier than before. Steel flashes around Kisame and this time, he is unable to prevent some cuts from getting through. He falls to one knee with a grunt, long and deep gashes blossoming red over his blue skin.

He looks up to the tree branch where his opponent safely glares at him and the perverse grin on his face grows. "You move like him. I like that."

Kisame digs a finger into a wound on his left arm, only dimly feeling the pain, and chuckles. "Numbing poison? Do you wish to draw this out, little bug?" His expression turns gleefully sinister. "Because I can."

"Vessel," a voice, at last, comes from behind the mask; colder than midwinter. "What do you mean?"

The shark man rises slowly back to his feet, his left arm bent and dangling oddly at his side. "The long game," he says simply. Small, beady eyes stare at her shrewdly. "Or didn't Itachi tell you?"

Even at her distance, Kisame's massive aura is frightening. He's the tallest and physically strongest of her targets, and she knows she needs to be careful. She knows she needs to keep her distance and keep away from his chakra-hungry sword.

But what was one more potential revelation in a day of revelations? "No. He did not."

His smile widens, revealing multiple rows of jagged-edged knives for teeth. "Akatsuki is not your enemy," he purrs like sandpaper grinding against gravel. "Nor were we Itachi's. In fact, we wanted to _help you_."

Sakura notices him slowly close the distance between them and her grip on her blades tighten. She slides her feet to a defensive stance. "How?"

"To fulfil your destiny. To be the vessel in which Akatsuki brings peace to the world."

Kisame releases his monstrous sword and, to her amazement, it lunges at her. Sakura turns aside the blow with a smooth, dance-like motion and leaps a safe distance away just as her opponent rushes at her.

Beady eyes brighten with morbid delight. "But he betrayed me. Like a typical Uchiha, he became greedy. He wanted to keep you for himself."

Sakura launches herself and rains a furious, chakra-infused wave of attacks on him. Flames scorch and steel cuts at the Mist Swordsman. He defends himself but only half-heartedly, and he doesn't budge from his spot. The grin he wears remains sadistic.

His behavior is unnerving but she sticks to the plan. She sheathes and unsheathes her blades to lace them with a deadly poison. Sakura slashes at a lower calf with one blade and his already-numb arm with the other. Then she pummels him into the ground with several tons of rock and buries him from view.

It's her heaviest attack. By numbing him earlier, he would not feel the second poison until it's too late. All she needed to do was buy time for it to take effect.

She pulls away to a safe distance, gasping for breath, and feels confident that she'd mortally weakened him. That he should stay down long enough for her to recover enough chakra and imprison him until the poison took care of the rest.

But the ground shakes a few seconds later and the Mist Swordsman bursts from the rubble, battered and bleeding but standing strong _._

Behind the mask, her eyes widen with dread. A cold sweat trickles down her neck.

"My turn," he growls and thrusts his sword forward with a speed and strength unfathomable after everything Sakura had just thrown at him. Samehada hits her square on the left shoulder, instantly ripping through her armor, and sends her flying.

She slams to the ground several paces away and continues sliding for some distance on her side.

Her body burns. She can smell blood. It takes her a second to find her bearings, but it's a second too long.

A large, scaly hand grabs her by the neck, roughly lifts her up and slams her against a tree. Her mask cracks and falls away.

Sakura pulls at the bulk of his arm frantically with chakra-infused might, but pain immediately shoots up her fingers. Panic takes over as she realizes her chakra is all but depleted. Her eyes lock furiously on the ridiculous sword still in his numb hand and it practically shimmers with her stolen power. "You basta—"

Kisame closes his fist slowly around her neck and cuts off her breath.

"This is your fault," he murmurs, talon-like fingers digging into her throat.

Sakura feels herself grow hot as red sparks explode in her mind. She desperately kicks at him but the struggling only depletes her remaining oxygen faster.

Soon, a merciful numbness washes over her and she stops fighting. Her arms go limp. Eyelids grow heavy and relief, almost like pleasure, emanates from her chest.

"He wouldn't have betrayed Akatsuki— betrayed _me_ — if he'd thought you'd come willingly."

_Strange,_ she thinks dimly. Did he sound… sad?

"You should thank me, little bug, for sending you to him."

Her consciousness fades. She feels herself sink into a sensual darkness.

"Goodbye, Mantis."

Then— pain.

Scorching, white-hot pain.

Her body convulses with shock as she is unpinned from the tree. She drops to the ground and opens her mouth to scream, but her lungs fill with air and the breath surging through her oxygen-deprived body _burns_.

Tears sting her eyes as life excruciatingly returns to her. Her skin sizzles. The vague thought of an electric current crosses her mind as large, blinding-white canine figures leap over her and drive the Mist Swordsman back.

"Wha…" she rasps. She clutches her chest and rolls to her side, no longer able to support herself.

Someone steps between her and her opponent. Sakura rests her head back and looks up at a familiar head of silver-white hair shimmering, like starlight, above her. He doesn't look back at her. He doesn't turn around. Instead, he stares at Kisame and lifts a hand to his left eye.

"I can't let you do that." A voice, deep and reassuring, rumbles softly from masked lips. "It was not his wish."

Kakashi's fist clenches at his side as he tries not to think of what would've happened if he hadn't been within range to feel the earthquake from the last attack. It had taken all of his tracking-nin to find her general location and it was still, almost, too late.

"The second betrayer," Kisame sneers as he pushes himself back up to a standing position. How he _loathed_ lightning. "And what did you know of his wishes?"

Kakashi pushes the cover up from his face and stares at the shark man with both his eyes. "That she live."

Behind him, Sakura manages to pull herself back up to a standing position. She uses the tree for support and coughs weakly. "Ka… kashi?"

He turns his head back just long enough to take a quick glance at her. "I'm sorry for the shock."

And for the briefest of moments, when their eyes meet, she forgets how to breathe.

A red eye.

A single, _sharingan_ eye.

Chills race up Sakura's spine but there's no time to react. Kisame roars and unleashes a powerful tidal wave at them.

Kakashi's hands move swiftly through the seals to project a chakra shield around them. Water slams hard against it and over it, but the shield holds.

The Mist Swordsman rides the wave and brings his monstrous sword down directly over them. The shield shatters and Kakashi just barely dodges the attack. He grabs Sakura, pulls her tightly to him, and leaps away from the immediate danger.

She yelps and jerks uncomfortably in his arms, but he can't afford to slow down. "Sorry," he mutters as he tightens his hold around her and continues their flight. They are still much too far from the encampment and the nearest search party. Sakura seems to understand this after a few seconds and he feels her relax against him, trusting herself in his hands. 

Kakashi takes another large leap into the air and for one, heart-stopping moment, their eyes meet. Her expression is awestruck as she gazes into mismatched eyes. Here, in the surreal space captured by the span of a breath, the sky clear and alight with stars, there is nothing between them but moonlight and the fear of falling.

"This isn't good," he murmurs.

Her fingers curl into his sleeve. "I'm sorry."

They land in a clearing and find themselves on a cliff's edge. Kakashi puts her down gently and she peers over the precipice. The drop is steep and the rapids foam in the river below.

He positions himself discreetly in front of her as the large bulk of their pursuer emerges from the forest. Kisame saunters towards them, relishing the sight of their futility.

"How nice," The Swordsman purrs. "Now we can _all_ see Itachi. Together."

Sakura bites back a frustrated cry as she notices the way his foot drags beside his sword and the way his other arm hangs now, completely limp. The poison was working, but it was slow. Much too slow.

Kakashi can fight but he's not sure he can fight AND keep her safe. He scans the surrounding desperately for a plan of action. His eyes lock onto something beyond and, instinctively, he holds his arms up to shield Sakura.

"What is i—" Sakura staggers and a dizzying pain shoots up her torn shoulder and behind her eyes, plunging her into murky darkness. A wave of nausea hits her as she collapses to her hands and knees. She flounders as blood swells up into her mouth. "No!" she cries as her body gives out.

She's not quite sure how much time passes. She thinks she hears the burst of an explosion, steel clashing, and a large body crumpling.

Cold air brushes against the shell of her ear as she is scooped up into steady arms; sinks into a warm embrace. A haze of starlight-white fills her vision, tickling her nose, and stirs her enough that she lifts her head briefly.

Her left cheek brushes against a cool face and a breath catches just short of touching her lips. She blinks slowly and something red and round fills her vision. A familiar pinwheel design come into focus. It circles almost lazily in scarlet pools framed by long, dark lashes.

Her jaw falls slack as she reaches a trembling hand up to a face she thought she'd never see again. The red eye flutters closed and a calming peace washes over her. Her vision starts to fade again.

"I'm dying," she laughs, mostly to herself, as she falls back. What other explanation could there be? Missing Itachi comes in waves and tonight, it seems, she'd finally succeeded in drowning herself in it.

Her head settles onto steady shoulders as she is lifted into the air. A divine darkness embraces her and she surrenders herself to its welcoming arms, a smile dancing on her lips.

_No, Sakura_. His voice, soft and gentle just as she remembered, caresses her ear. _Not yet._

  
  
**———**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between updates I can be found musing at [Substack](https://insomnikat.substack.com/?no_cover=true).
> 
> I thrive on comments, so please send me your ItaSaku/KakaSaku love!


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